Ilvermorny NPC
NPC Name: Andrew Lycan
Link: here
Year: going into Sixth
Stats: no change
Abilities: no change
Extracurricular: no change, broom racer
Content Changes: Update to History. It was brought to my attention that my original application was not 200 words long, so here is the updated version.
ReducioAndrew Lycan was born an only child to proud parents Collette "Coco" and Alexander "Xander" Lycan. He, like his parents, often uses a nickname- Drew. His mother was the daughter of a very wealthy pure blood family, who kept true to the traditional pure blood ways until Drew’s mother was well into her twenties. Though in many ways, they still maintain their pureblood traditions, such as the passing down of the manor to the next head of the family, and the portraits, they have moved away from their blood purist ways, and are now more accepting of muggles, squibs, and half-bloods. This makes Drew’s pureblood family dynamic much different than the stereotype, and has caused him to be the happy-go-lucky inclusive kid he is today. He first showed magic at the age of six, when there was a school bully being mean to one of his friends. They were outside on the recess field, and the bully suddenly had a very bad sunburn. There was no logical explanation to how he had gotten sunburnt that fast, but the bully never messed with any of Drew's friends ever again. He always was interested in brooms and great shows of power, even when he was a little kid. Born and raised in a small wizarding town in Georgia area in America, Drew went to muggle schools until he was accepted into Illvermorny.Word Count: 230
Trunk Coding: n/a
Approved June 29 (Lear)
Wow, amazing someone did a WC on this but OK, thanks for keeping honest. Carry on.
Ilvermorny NPC
NPC Name: Theodore Duncain
Link: Theopedia
Year: Sixth Year
Stats:
Old Stats:
Stamina: 10
Evasion: 11
Strength: 10
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 9
Accuracy: 15
New Stats:
Stamina: 10
Evasion: 15
Strength: 10
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 9
Accuracy: 17
+4 eva, +2 acc (there's one sports win as well)
Abilities: Evasive Maneuvers
ReducioTheodore wasn't new to danger, not a stranger to the threats magic could pose. Especially at Hogwarts the young man had been taught to keep his guard up, expect events to go up in flame and expect anything suspicious to be actually dangerous.
And first and foremost the sport he played at his school was a dangerous thing all on its own. Theodore was a beater, so he regularly soared through the air and beat big metal balls at other players- and the better he got he became a target more often himself. Theo had become a damn good beater over the years. First he had tried out broom racing, which had been fun but seemed like a beg to get injured in countless gruesome ways, he found.
Quidditch wasn't the same, not really. It relied fully on all players' skills, so it allowed for some kind of strategy, whereas he found that racing was more of a... close your eyes and get through the course without losing any limbs, life or mind kind of situation. He hadn't even been sure what danger to focus on in racing.
With Quidditch it was different. Last summer he had been tackled off his broom after taking out a bunch of opponents, his focus lying elsewhere and not really expecting such a desperate foul, but this kind of thing was predictable. So Theo had started to focus his training less on his own aim, like he had for years, but instead he spent more time on dodging attacks.
Every time he trained, he would at some point ask his teammates to throw balls at him that he had to dodge and eventually, after a lot of training and a lot of small bruises- chasers really had strong throwing arms- he became better and better at it. There were small things he hadn't noticed so much before. A whistle of wind warning him of something flying his way, a gust of air, barely noticeable.
The Quidditch training had proven way more effective than whatever his little brothers were trying past summer. He had asked them for assistance too- and regretted it dearly, the twins enjoyed throwing things at him with permission at any time of the day way too much- but he had been too distracted then. What happened at the camp with Dee kept his mind occupied for a while, too much for him to watch out whenever the twins decided to throw peas across the dinner table. [416 words]
Extracurricular: Quidditch (Beater)
Trunk Coding:Code: Select all
[quote][center][/center] [quote][center]Stamina: 10 Evasion: 15 Strength: 10 Wisdom: 8 Arcane Power: 9 Accuracy: 17 [revelio]Total: 69 Stat Points (8 from Duel Wins, 1 from Quidditch Win) ([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=16330&start=40#p274734]1[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=1744&start=130#p294539]2[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=18463&start=30#p300076]3[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=19523&start=10#p3485703]4[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=421845#p421845]5[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=23482&p=576988#p576988]6[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=679635#p679635]7[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=764351#p764351]8[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=30945&p=941445#p941445]9[/url])[/revelio][/center][/quote] [quote][center][b]Quidditch Player - Beater[/b][/center][/quote] [quote][quote][center][b]Ability 1: The Muggle Condition[/b][/center] [reducio] [b]Why does it fit my character?[/b] Theo had no idea of magic before he was told of it and it had opened up a new world to him. He does not longer waste time on muggle abilities, which he can easily replace with magic, but he had to for eleven years. The young boy grew up in the muggle world, visited a muggle kinder garden and a muggle primary school. When he had still visited school, his only target had been to get to the best possible secondary school. And then magic got in between. But since he had never expected it, he acquired the skills that one just learns when one is young and spends a lot time with other boys. Not to mention simply loves to provoke others. And just can't resist to put a toe across the boarder, as soon as the consequences become acceptable. Theo knows how to throw punches. He knows how to physically fight. He even learned how to do it secretly, after it got him and his parents in front of the principal a few times. Although he doesn't necessarily need those skills anymore, now that he learns many very interesting spells, he has noticed, that this seems to be exactly what all those purebloods are thinking. They didn't think it would be necessary to acquire certain skills that might be more important in the muggle world. Theo simply loves to get them by surprise through easy muggle tricks. Just before he went to Ilvermorny, he even took his time to learn simple muggle card trick to brag. It works perfectly and he is extremely proud of it. Through simple muggle games, Theo has made himself a name at Ilvermorny, used his bloodline for his own advantage. Sometimes he questions it. Sometimes he thinks that something might be wrong with him, as there are only very few muggleborns at Ilvermorny, secretly of course, Theodore Duncain has no insecurities. But in the end he is a creative and optimistic boy. He can see opportunities in almost every bad situation. Theo knows a lot about muggle technology as well and he just likes to show off the aditional knowledge he has. Of course he made sure to inform himself about the magical world before he started to show his knowledge off, it would have been embarrassing if someone could have shut him off with one seemingly simple question about the wizarding world. No, Theodore Duncain, the muggleborn would not stop trying until his circumstances helped him go up in the 'hierarchy' of students.[/reducio][/quote] [quote][center][b]Ability 2: Calming Presence[/b][/center][reducio][b]Why does it fit my character?[/b] Theodore grew up, always carrying the responsibility one automatically carries being the oldest kid amongst a bunch of younger siblings. It was him, who was responsible for looking after the three others on their way to school, him, who made it his task to be there for his little sister, the only girl, as much as the two other boys, as hard as it was for a while. He always valued the bond he had with his siblings, and it was undeniable him, who convinced the three that they were invincible as long as they stuck together. That dream image didn't quite work like he hoped it would. Theo's siblings would stick with him- but separately. Amongst themselves the twins and Anabelle were almost indifferent about one another. It was Theo then, who tried to be the counterpart for Anabelle, that the twins were for one another, and at the same time to be the cool older brother for the twins. That on the other hand did work. Where other siblings might have tried to avoid there siblings in public, even pretended not to have one, out of puberty embarrassment, Theo was a cool older brother for them, who they went to when they had issues in school, with other children or were scared of something. As the oldest, it was mostly him, who his parents asked for help or shared their worries with. Even after entering puberty, he was still the least troublesome of the siblings and took a great deal of stress off his parents' backs. The boy was pretty much carrying the whole family on his back, and while it might have stressed out other children, Theo was happy to make his family happy, or at least make things easier for them. While on the outside it looked like they were simply a family that could work perfectly well together, the family knew that it was Theo, who was keeping it together. It was visible when he was in school longer than his siblings were. When he came home, he would often walk in to his mother yelling at the twins, but it would most of the times stop immediately. At home it always seemed like Theo was radiating calmness. It was a place he knew, he felt safe at, a place where he always had things under control. Things changed after he went to Ilvermorny. He exchanges owls with Ana, but although her vague responses never include any negative things, he is sure, that there is a lot of chaos at home. After he got used to the school, he went back to his rather calm self. At least when he is not provoked. If one doesn't know him, he can seem a little intimidating, as he likes to tease and joke around with people, but when it is serious, danger or simply the need to talk, he would not let anyone down. In one on one conversations, one would feel that calming presence particularly strong. One thing, that his sister Anabelle said before he went to go to Ilvermorny, made him think for a long while. [i]"Theo, you are the anchor of ship Duncain. We'll be drifting away for a while, without a doubt. But we'll get back on course. If there is no anchor, we have a steering wheel. If it gets serious, we can all navigate this ship."[/i][/reducio][/quote] [quote][center][b]Ability 3: Blindvision[/b][/center][reducio][b]Why does it fit my character?[/b] Sometimes Theo himself cannot quite believe how sharp his own senses are, especially in the darkness. He is a person who enjoys colours, naturally he is more wary in the dark. Perhaps it has something to do with his family. The young boy is muggleborn and when he got his invitation to Ilvermorny, his dad sat at his bed and had a long talk with him. He had told Theodore that he always knew that his eldest son was different, that he always had a feeling that eventually something like this would happen. But in the first place he had warned Theo. Although Virgil Duncain had no knowledge of what would await Theo in the magical world, he had told him to be careful, to watch his back. For the muggle man, magic was a word that belonged into fairytales and stories, not into the real world- His Theodore was going to a place neither of them could imagine, a place that was separate from the world he knew. Maybe his father's words had made him be more careful. Maybe it simply came with being an older brother. Steve and Elias are Theo's two younger twin brothers, and while he loves them, they have always given him a reason to watch his own back as well as theirs. It was quite possible that the two boys got the joy from playing little pranks from their older brother, Theodore learned very soon that it was a bad idea not to watch whatever he touched, ate or put on. Once they had collected some beetles and put them into his bed. Theo had hesitated to go to bed on that evening, all his senses telling him not to and so he found the insects und his blanket. After some years he had developed something like a sensor for dangers in the dark. Sometimes, although he probably only imagined it, he just almost smelled it, like a bad sent in the air. The hairs on his arms prickling for seemingly no reason. Theodore always got along with his younger Sister Anabelle very well, the two of them could as well be the same age, they would hardly be any closer. While the young boy enjoys every minute of his time in Ilvermorny, he promises his sister and himself every year to come back to her. That his father was right and things really tended to become dangerous in a way that... simply wasn't from this world was something he had especially noticed in Hogwarts. He didn't get into dangerous situation himself so far, but he had heard stories of murderous dolls, things he would prefer to stay in horror movies and not come to life. All that added to the slight paranoia he developed in the dark. Who was to say that the shadows wouldn't come to life? It is not like the young Thunderbird could really see in the dark, while he was magical, he was certainly not Magic Mike. But since he had set foot into the magical world, his senses were sharp like they had never been before, he simply had a feeling. He didn't always need his eyes to know what was happening in front of him. [/reducio][/quote] [quote][center][b]Ability 4: Savior[/b][/center][reducio]If one thinks of Theodore Duncain, one could probably think of quite a few things. Starting with his seemingly always great mood, his love for adventures, his tolerance and patience, but not to forget, his desire to make sure that the people he cares about are fine. Being the oldest of four children, he had been taught to take care of them at a very young age already. It wasn't like Charlize and Virgil Duncain weren't the most loving parents imaginable, but with the little money the family had, both parents were working hard. And while the Duncain parents were working to get six hungry mouths fed, it was often up to Theo to take care of the three youngest, make sure that they did their homework and keep them entertained after school so their parents could work in peace. With his invitation to Ilvermorny, everything had changed. After the first mistrust in something so surreal, Theo's parents were actually really excited for their eldest son to take the chance he had been given and also successfully persuaded him to go after promising him repeatedly that they would be fine as well as his siblings. So Theo left and naturally found some friends at Ilvermorny soon. Having taken care of his younger siblings all his life, there was suddenly a gap to fill and just as naturally his new friend from Ilvermorny began to fill that gap. Theo became the kind of friend that would always try and cheer people up, but also protect them in more serious situations. Perhaps that made it all the more ironic that he joined first one dangerous sport in which trees were literally out to kill the players and next one that involved metal balls that would attempt to knock kids off their brooms. His task was clear, keep those metal balls in check, but that did not at all mean that Theo didn't pick a different task for himself. While he liked Quidditch, attempting to injure people wasn't really his thing, so he tried very much to just protect his team and hit bludgers somewhere, where no one was who could get hurt. And if there was the occasional player falling of their broom, well... Theo left his post without thinking about it twice. If the young Thunderbird could help it, none of his classmates would ever fall to hit the ground, in fact he had become pretty good at spotting and catching them before they hit the ground- yes, unfortunately that did include one or the other opponent. [/reducio][/quote] [quote][center][b]Ability 5: Broken Broomshaft[/b][/center][reducio]Theo Duncain had never been a weak child, always wrestling and getting into all kinds of shenanigans with his younger brothers. When he was younger, his dad liked to use the empty field near their home to play sports with his children as well (football, baseball, batminton, anything really). With this influence, Theo had always been rather athletic and strong and was often asked to help with more difficult jobs around the house, until he eventually got to join the junior baseball team at his elementary school. Of course, with the children on the team all being around 10-11, there wasn't much going on in terms of competition, but Theo learned a lot about techniques, how to correctly use a bat, how to effectively hit a ball and all kinds of useful lessons. These lessons are a blessing to him today. Theo has quite the history when it comes to sports, broom sports in particular. First he had joined the broom racing team and stayed on until his third year, when he finally quit. While the young man did enjoy a good challenge, he always had the feeling to be canon fodder as a young racer. The whole concept of the sport was rather merciless to younger students and Theo went to look for a different challenge. Preferable one that wouldn't land him in the hospital wing after every game. So he had joined his school's Quidditch Team as a second string beater. A position he particularly enjoyed as he felt like he could bring some knowledge from his time in muggle school into it and maybe actually make a difference. Yes, during his first game he had not been on the winning side, but if he only looked at his own performance, he was rather content. It was certainly something he could work with! And work with it he did. When other students could be found practicing spells, Theo was training his body, creating a visible difference over the duration of his fourth year. Regularly he could be found in some isolated area, doing push ups, sit ups or training hitting techniques with his beater's bat. And one day, during training for which he usually used some normal balls, he hit one with full force, but didn't aim properly. The ball went a different way than intended and ended up hitting a chair next to a tree, smashing the whole thing against the trunk. With wide eyes Theo had run over to fix the chair magically, but the force of his hit had effectively turned the chair into a pile of broken boards.[/reducio][/quote] [quote][center][b]Ability 6: Evasive Maneuvers[/b][/center][reducio]Theodore wasn't new to danger, not a stranger to the threats magic could pose. Especially at Hogwarts the young man had been taught to keep his guard up, expect events to go up in flame and expect anything suspicious to be actually dangerous. And first and foremost the sport he played at his school was a dangerous thing all on its own. Theodore was a beater, so he regularly soared through the air and beat big metal balls at other players- and the better he got he became a target more often himself. Theo had become a damn good beater over the years. First he had tried out broom racing, which had been fun but seemed like a beg to get injured in countless gruesome ways, he found. Quidditch wasn't the same, not really. It relied fully on all players' skills, so it allowed for some kind of strategy, whereas he found that racing was more of a... close your eyes and get through the course without losing any limbs, life or mind kind of situation. He hadn't even been sure what danger to focus on in racing. With Quidditch it was different. Last summer he had been tackled off his broom after taking out a bunch of opponents, his focus lying elsewhere and not really expecting such a desperate foul, but this kind of thing was predictable. So Theo had started to focus his training less on his own aim, like he had for years, but instead he spent more time on dodging attacks. Every time he trained, he would at some point ask his teammates to throw balls at him that he had to dodge and eventually, after a lot of training and a lot of small bruises- chasers really had strong throwing arms- he became better and better at it. There were small things he hadn't noticed so much before. A whistle of wind warning him of something flying his way, a gust of air, barely noticeable. The Quidditch training had proven way more effective than whatever his little brothers were trying past summer. He had asked them for assistance too- and regretted it dearly, the twins enjoyed throwing things at him with permission at any time of the day way too much- but he had been too distracted then. What happened at the camp with Dee kept his mind occupied for a while, too much for him to watch out whenever the twins decided to throw peas across the dinner table.[/reducio][/quote][/quote][/quote]
Approved June 29 (Lear)
Ilvermorny NPC
NPC Name: Phylicia Stanwood
Link: Here!
Year: 7th in terms of stats and abilities, 6th in character
Stats: +5 from graduation, +1 from duelling win [x]
Stamina: 15 > 16
Evasion: 13
Strength: 13
Wisdom: 10 > 12
Arcane Power: 5
Accuracy: 17 > 20
Abilities: Apparition (489 words)
Extracurricular: Quidditch Player (Keeper)
Content Changes: Updated face-claim and appearance description to reflect her new, shorter hair.
Trunk Coding:
Link: Here!
Year: 7th in terms of stats and abilities, 6th in character
Stats: +5 from graduation, +1 from duelling win [x]
Stamina: 15 > 16
Evasion: 13
Strength: 13
Wisdom: 10 > 12
Arcane Power: 5
Accuracy: 17 > 20
Abilities: Apparition (489 words)
Reducio
In Phyllis’ family, apparition had always been treated kind of like how Muggle families treated driving, at least as far as she could tell from what her friends had told her. It was just a normal, expected thing, a kind of milestone of the age she was. There were plenty of other ways for wizards to travel, most of them much safer, but she’d never really questioned it. Once she was old enough, she enrolled in apparition lessons.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the extra coursework, academics had never been her strongest point despite her mother’s insistence that she was only ever a little added effort away from straight O’s. As a long time fan of everything flying, it was at least actually pretty interesting. It lacked the thrill of flying, but carried some of the same motion sickness, the same requirements for attention because crashes—or splinching, with apparition—could be deadly. Phyllis had read reports of those accidents before in the newspapers her mother would get, and frankly, she would not like that to happen to her.
But she wasn’t going into it scared, either, that just wasn’t how Phyllis did things. On the first day they got to practice any actual apparition—just tiny, controlled jumps—she was a part of those in the room that were excited rather than those chewing nails or glancing repeatedly at the clock. And on that first day it served her quite well, because worry was a distractor and distractions were often where apparitions failed.
Was she a bit overconfident? Yeah, probably. By the third day of real practice, she felt like she had the hang of it and was paying a bit less attention. She remembered thinking that the sky out the windows was such a brilliant blue and she’d love to fly in it later. Then it was her turn to apparate, and everything seemed fine until she realized they were staring and someone cried, “Phyllis, your hair!” Which was when she discovered that she’d in fact left a good foot of hair behind.
It was a lucky splinch. She hadn’t lost anything important and painful. Phyllis actually really liked her new accidental haircut, the short length and the loss of weight off her shoulders, though her mother almost threw a fit about it. It was enough to remind her, though, that she was dealing with very serious magic and that she had never been an especially skilled witch, so it was her very best attention or the risk of leaving behind something worse next time.
With more intentionality, she finished the course. On the day of the exam, she apparated exactly where they wanted her to and didn’t leave even an inch of hair behind. Her wand, of course, never one to be quiet, produced the loudest crack of the day, but that wasn’t a disqualifying factor so she earned herself a shiny new apparition license.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the extra coursework, academics had never been her strongest point despite her mother’s insistence that she was only ever a little added effort away from straight O’s. As a long time fan of everything flying, it was at least actually pretty interesting. It lacked the thrill of flying, but carried some of the same motion sickness, the same requirements for attention because crashes—or splinching, with apparition—could be deadly. Phyllis had read reports of those accidents before in the newspapers her mother would get, and frankly, she would not like that to happen to her.
But she wasn’t going into it scared, either, that just wasn’t how Phyllis did things. On the first day they got to practice any actual apparition—just tiny, controlled jumps—she was a part of those in the room that were excited rather than those chewing nails or glancing repeatedly at the clock. And on that first day it served her quite well, because worry was a distractor and distractions were often where apparitions failed.
Was she a bit overconfident? Yeah, probably. By the third day of real practice, she felt like she had the hang of it and was paying a bit less attention. She remembered thinking that the sky out the windows was such a brilliant blue and she’d love to fly in it later. Then it was her turn to apparate, and everything seemed fine until she realized they were staring and someone cried, “Phyllis, your hair!” Which was when she discovered that she’d in fact left a good foot of hair behind.
It was a lucky splinch. She hadn’t lost anything important and painful. Phyllis actually really liked her new accidental haircut, the short length and the loss of weight off her shoulders, though her mother almost threw a fit about it. It was enough to remind her, though, that she was dealing with very serious magic and that she had never been an especially skilled witch, so it was her very best attention or the risk of leaving behind something worse next time.
With more intentionality, she finished the course. On the day of the exam, she apparated exactly where they wanted her to and didn’t leave even an inch of hair behind. Her wand, of course, never one to be quiet, produced the loudest crack of the day, but that wasn’t a disqualifying factor so she earned herself a shiny new apparition license.
Extracurricular: Quidditch Player (Keeper)
Content Changes: Updated face-claim and appearance description to reflect her new, shorter hair.
Trunk Coding:
Reducio
Code: Select all
[quote][center][size=125][b]Trunk[/b][/size][/center]
[b]Stats:[/b]
- Stamina: 16
- Evasion: 13
- Strength: 13
- Wisdom: 12
- Arcane Power: 5
- Accuracy: 20
[right]+12 stat points from wins | [[url=https://www.hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=8714&start=50#p149357]x[/url]][[url=https://www.hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=13818&p=221038#p220798]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=15254&p=243297#p243249]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=16317&p=262149#p262116]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=294534#p294534]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=317191#p316921]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=357116#p354933]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=20754&start=30#p424177]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=576988#p576988]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=743554#p743554]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=764351#p764351]x[/url]][[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=882009#p882009]x[/url]][/right]
[b]Abilities:[/b]
- Calming Presence
[reducio]Phyllis, even though she didn't realize it, had a presence about her that set people at ease. Despite her reputation, which wasn't the best and would normally lead someone to be unsettled when first meeting her, she just had this easy-going nature that lent others a sense of calm. Yes, her family had associations with Dark Magic, and, yes, she was known as a troublemaker, but be it her smile, relaxed posture, or something else, perhaps intangible, she had a calming presence.
The presence first became apparent when she was four. Her family, being wealthy Pure-bloods, had a number of house elves working for them. On that day another family high in status was visiting and one of the house elves spilled tea on one of the guest's dress. Naturally, he was kicked from the room and told to go punish himself. Phyllis, feeling badly for the creature, followed. She couldn't stop him from banging his head repeatedly against the wall, but she was successful in calming the poor elf down.
Such instances came up throughout her childhood in similar manners. When she moved with her mother to Canada, Phyllis became the peacemaker in the ring of friends she found in a magical urban area. The kids she hung around were far from well-mannered and had a tendency to get into fights even amongst themselves. Phyllis was the one to break those fights up and help everyone calm down.
And in situations where Phyllis and a friend were setting up a prank, she made it easy to relax. Sure, they were in the middle of doing something that could get them into trouble, which could be a bit stressful, or one might be overly excited, but with Phyllis around they were able to execute their prank without blowing their cover.
The same carried over to Quidditch. As a first year, Phyllis hadn't made the team but even just when playing for fun her teammates found it easier to play. Even when they were down, the girl was unflappable, never getting frustrated or giving up. In her mind, so long as you kept trying there was always a chance of coming back, of winning. They just had to focus and around her doing just that was much easier.
Even without each and every situation that made it clear her presence had an effect on people, her personality alone lent itself to helping others relax. Phyllis could be intense when she wanted to, but most of the time the redhead was laid-back, carefree. Grades weren't a concern; in fact, not achieving top marks aided her goal of irritating her mother. Plus, the way she saw it, things just [i]happened[/i]. You couldn't always do anything about it, so why not just go where things took you?
To those she cared about, Phyllis was solid, unchangeably loyal. In every other aspect of her life she was unpredictable, but when it came down to her friends counting on her she wouldn't let them down for anything. It was another aspect of her that helped her friends, her allies, not worry and instead focus there energy on succeeding.
It was true that Phyllis wasn't the smartest, hence the reason she hadn't identified the aura of calm she possessed. But she didn't have to know about it for it to be there. Without a doubt, Phyllis had a calming presence.[/reducio]- Fearless
[reducio]No one was truly fearless. It simply wasn't possible for a human to not be afraid of [i]something[/i], be it spiders, the dark, losing a loved one, or one of the other numerous things there were to be scared of. All that considered, Phyllis was as close as you could get to fearless.
Growing up the way she did, Phyllis [i]had[/i] to be fearless. It was that or be scared out of her wits of what her mother might do with all her Dark Magic next. Not letting anything get to her was probably not all that smart, but Phyllis wasn't exactly known for sharp intellect. Her sometimes reckless bravery led to many a not-so-great circumstance. For instance, climbing a tree too high without checking if the branches could hold her weight. That had been a painful day, what with tumbling to the ground when the branch under her snapped and breaking her arm. It was a good thing indeed that she'd grown up with magic to fix such accidents. Or, another time when she'd jumped into an icy lake to save one of her friends even though she had no clue how to swim. She'd been awfully lucky to survive that.
Still, not being scared of just about anything had its benefits. She didn't dread big occasions, didn't have to deal with stage fright, and wasn't afraid of just walking over to someone and striking up a conversation. In relation to that calming presence she possessed, the fact she wasn't scared made it that much easier for the people around her to relax.
When the Ilvermorny students had been invited to Hogwarts and fights had broken out at the Masked Ball, she'd charged straight into them. It was far from the smart thing to do, especially since she had next to no spells under her belt and all, but that didn't mean it hadn't been proof of her lack of fear. Maybe it was just the sort of bull-headed bravery you'd expect out of Gryffindors. Maybe it would get her killed someday. It wasn't as though she were scared of the potential repercussions, so what did it matter?
There were, of course, the things she was scared of. Being in the dark alone, for instance. Her childhood had taught her full well the horrors that hid in the shadows. Water, too--when she'd tried to save her friend, she'd learned just how terrifying it felt to drown. Neither of those fears would stop her from anything, though. Phyllis would still plunge into the shadows, still jump into water if it meant saving a friend or if it needed to be done. Perhaps that was the most important thing about her, more important than being mostly fearless in the first place: when she did get scared, she faced her fears anyways. Between the fearlessness and the bravery, Phyllis would not be stopped by fright.[/reducio]- Statistically Relevant [+2 Stamina]
[reducio]Phylicia Stanwood was tough. It was apparent even when she was a toddler; if she fell down, she was going to get back up. Throughout a childhood full of often reckless pursuits of excitement, scrapes, bruises, and the occasionally broken bone were common. She was quite the adventurous little thing, and when she played, she played hard. She was always outside, running around, climbing trees, doing cartwheels, flying her toy broom, and generally looking for any way to have fun.
Over time, her outdoor activities strayed away from simple playing and more into improving her physical abilities. Her endurance was possibly the only thing she admired about her family; Stanwoods were known for never giving up. Granted, the things her parents worked at until they got what they wanted were hardly admirable, but she was going to be different. Better. And that started by being the best broom flier out there.
Zipping around the grounds surrounding her family's manor brought a whole new set of dangers. See, when Phyllis flew, she only had one speed: fast. The little girl didn't know how to go slow; she was in it for the rush of adrenaline, the feeling having the wind streak past you. Instead of the occasional tumble out of a tree, now she was running straight into them, along with boulders and the occasional fence. Perhaps the resulting head trauma caused her to become even more reckless and stupid, but she never once cried. Instead, she always got back up, grabbed her broom, and walked back to the house to get fixed up.
This resilience wasn't just physical, though. Sure, she could take her fair share of hits and keep going, but getting up required a mental aspect. She knew how to shake things off. She chose to be optimistic, to believe even through growing up with parents that mostly ignored her that things could and [i]would[/i] get better. And if she believed there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, it was easier to get back up.
In addition, over the course of her first year she took to running in the morning. It wasn't as amazing of a feeling as zipping through the air on her broom, but it still felt good, feet pounding on the ground, propelling her forward. By the end of the year she could go a pretty long time without having to stop or slow down. She felt ready to face whatever came her way. Felt ready to keep pushing through.[/reducio]- Savior
[reducio]Phyllis loved sports, and broom sports in particular. She loved winning, and even just playing, flying; the feel of wind in her hair and pushing her broom faster and faster still. But here was the thing: things like broom racing and Quidditch? They were brutal. You were playing one minute and the next you were plummeting to the ground below. A lot of the time, you didn't get back up after that. The brutality itself wasn't really Phyllis' problem with it; Merlin knew she got a little too excited to roughhouse. No, what she didn't like was losing a teammate. It happened, but no one wanted to see a teammate sprawled on the grass. No one wanted to win and then watch a teammate grapple with the delivery of the news and the fact they hadn't been able to finish the game out, and of course it was only worse when it was a loss to report. The redhead's philosophy, not that she was entirely sure what philosophy meant, was that no one should get left behind.
She lived it. In her first broom race, despite the buzz of nerves and itch to speed ahead, she hung back because her friend and teammate had a slower broom and she wasn't going to leave him in the dust. When things had gone wrong at that first Masquerade Ball, the thought of leaving without her friends never once crossed her mind. She'd never let a prank partner take the fall; either they both got out of there or they took their punishment together. Simple as that.
Maybe that was why she ended up leaving the broom racing team. It was too individual of a sport. Yes, you had a team, but the whole point was for someone to race out ahead to cross the finish line first, not so much to work together. If someone was attacked, too bad, let them be targeted so you could slip by. Combine that with the fact she'd been in love with Quidditch since she knew what it was and she had her mind made up.
As she took to the skies in a different sport, she had a new way to keep up her code. If ever a teammate was to be knocked off their broom and it was remotely possible, she'd swoop down, getting a little faster in her rapid decline each time, and tug them out of their fall. It was a lot of fun riding together, anyhow; you could hear each others' jokes that way! The team was what counted to her, rain or shine, win or lose. No one left to fall.[/reducio]- Wandmaker [Snallygaster Heartstring | Dogwood | 33 cm | Quite Flexible]
[reducio]Distant was probably the best word to describe Phyllis' relationship with her father. It was true, more or less, even before her parents split, with him so often caught up at work. Always work. Maybe that was why he didn't fight for Phyllis to stay with him, why he seemed content with only the handful of times they saw each other a year and the letters. And Phyllis was fine with that. Life held too many good things to get snagged on wishes her father wasn't so distant, literally and emotionally. She had more than enough amazing friends to make up for it.
So when one of his letters strayed from the usual, surface-level discussion of what they'd been up to, Phyllis was surprised. He wanted to see her face-to-face, to spend a few days over the summer together? They hadn't spent that kind of time, just the two of them with no social function attached, in... well, in forever. So why now?
(Phyllis knew why. It was because she'd been asked to be a part of Ilvermorny's Hexiwizard team. There'd been congratulations when she'd joined the Quidditch team, but this was different. This was enough to catch genuine attention, maybe even pride. But it hurt to think that only this was finally good enough, so she was going to keep on pretending it was just out-of-the-blue.)
Her father inquired specifically about her wand--Was she attached? Did it work well?--with an offer to take her wand shopping at the special place he'd gotten his, if she wanted. Once upon a time, he had promised a small Phyllis admiring his wand with bright, wide eyes that he would go with her to get her wand, and that hadn't happened. She'd forgotten about that. Phyllis was not hung up about this promise he was a good three years late on; she hadn't even thought about it until the letter knocked it loose from the dusty recesses of her brain. She couldn't say she even cared for these sticks wizards so treasured, for spell-casting at all.
Actually... that wasn't true, actually. Phyllis did care, she saw things like Maxi hitting two people with one incantation and thought that was [i]so cool[/i], wanted to do it herself. But she was used to being passing, at best, with a wand, really a downright disappointment for a pureblood. So she made her identity friends and flying, instead, using magic only where she needed to. Cool things like splitting spells just weren't in the cards for Phyllis.
But maybe, just maybe, she could be better with a new wand. It couldn't be any [i]worse[/i]; there existed very little connection between her and her current wand. Something had sparked enough for it to pair with her in the first place, but something--Phyllis' lack of effort, just not meshing--had made the length of wood feel like little more than a stick. And maybe the time with her father would be nice. Somewhere inside, there was a little girl who [i]had[/i] cared, confused and missing her father, who did want that promised wand outing.
So over the summer, Phyllis would spend several days with her father back in England. On one of those days, he would take her to this wand shop. He spoke of it highly, and from what Phyllis gathered, it was prestigious, expensive. High-end was probably the right word. Thus commenced the hunt for the right wand, her father hovering excitedly at her shoulder and finding combinations for her to try. Whether to be annoyed or endeared by the interest, Phyllis wasn't sure. Some of that energy did seem to rub off on her, though, hope that perhaps she could find a new, better wand breaking through her lack of enthusiasm.
[b]Wood: Dogwood[/b]
First impressions were important, and it wasn't uncommon for people to come away from meeting Phyllis with the word [i]loud[/i] in mind. This was especially true when she was younger, the little redhead always having things to say and the projection to make sure people heard her. When she arrived at Ilvermorny, she got a bit better at managing her voice level and not talking [i]nearly[/i] so much, because she realized people found that annoying. Still, loud was a word people might think about her, and if not, extroverted, sociable, and enthusiastic certainly were.
She was talking when she picked up the wand that would become hers, making some idle joke to her father because it would be much too boring to do this in silence, and perhaps that was half of the battle in winning the wood's allegiance.
[b]Core: Snallygaster Heartstring[/b]
The wands being funneled her way were primarily of the strongest cores. It was a very intentional thing, so that even Phyllis, with her limited knowledge of wand components, could notice. That was hardly a surprise, she was sure her father would be happiest if she came out with what was the best possible wand on paper. But she felt nothing with those--she didn't really think she had the necessary power, or whatever--and eventually their search expanded, which is how she ended up with a wand of Snallygaster Heartstring in hand. Did Phyllis even know what a Snallygaster was? Not really.
But it was this core that chose her, and if she had known the traits this core typically bonded with, she wouldn't have been surprised. She had that physical aspect, speed and grace shining through when she spun through the air on a broom. She had the warmness, optimism and openness being how she carried herself and aggression something very rarely expressed. And she had the self-awareness, in touch with how she felt about things and remarkably cool-headed for someone who appeared so expressive. The wand knew what it was looking for in a good match, even if Phyllis didn't.
[b]Length: 33 cm[/b]
Phyllis barely even noticed the lengths of the wands she tried out, but a short wand was just never going to fit. She was loud, expressive, humorous. [i]Dramatic[/i] was not something she typically was, unless it was sarcasm, but otherwise she fit the bill of a longer wand perfectly. Phyllis had a bigger presence, and so would her wand. Plus, it just felt right in her hand.
[b]Flexibility: Quite Flexible[/b]
Beyond preferring her wand to bounce a little when she swished it, a more flexible wand was only fitting. Where many might get nervous to try something new, for Phyllis there was only excitement as she chased the adrenaline of novelty. Constantly she was pushing her limits on a broom, and she was fine dropping plans to do something else with friends last-minute. Going with the flow seemed to her to be the best way to live.
Phyllis was not, however, a pushover. She had defined lines on certain things; she wouldn't be cruel, or exclusive, or follow through with ideas that were nothing but bad. That kept her laid-back approach to life in check. Most things didn't hold too much weight to her, but she would hold firm on those that did.[/reducio]- Keeper's Catch
[reducio]Quidditch had been Phyllis' thing for as long as she could remember. It had started as a little kid, wide-eyed and dreamy, watching colorful jerseys blur by high in the air, and not knowing what they were doing but knowing she wanted to do that, too. That had sparked a childhood-long obsession, pushing her toy broom to its (admittedly limited) limits and pestering her exhausted parents to take her to games. And now she was on her school team, first-string Keeper a role she treated with a certain reverence.
It was a certain kind of magical, the way owning a speedy broom and belonging to an enthusiastic team pushed her to new heights. Watching the professionals was cool, but taking pointers from friends was better, and really nothing beat the practical application in scrimmages and games.
The role of [i]Keeper[/i] could be viewed as a more passive one. You stuck near the hoops and defended them, and while you could dive into the action, it usually came at the cost of points to the enemy team. Phyllis loved zipping around a little too much to play so statically. And so, in the risk-free environment of practice, she started experimenting. Maybe rather than batting quaffles away she could try catching them. Maybe, if she was fast enough, a solid block could become a pass, a speedy attempt to score. Maybe she could take greater control of the field.
It was definitely a bit messy at first, sacrificing defense for offense. She fumbled balls and got a bit ahead of herself, moving faster than she could survey the field. But she'd played enough Quidditch to know that every setback was a lesson, and if you could tweak one detail of your approach after every failure, slowly your tangled mess of effort would weave into a pretty tapestry of skill. She wasn't one for flowery language, but that seemed a good way to put it. And tapestries were an appropriately large project, fitting of the way her team's support helped her pull it all together.
So now, with her silly tapestry put together reasonably well, she was gaining confidence to play as Keeper a little differently. A little more aggressively, a little more directly. A little more like the professionals, if she let her mentality go there. And, in her personal opinion, it was more fun this way, and wasn't that what Quidditch was all about?[/reducio]- Apparition
[reducio]In Phyllis’ family, apparition had always been treated kind of like how Muggle families treated driving, at least as far as she could tell from what her friends had told her. It was just a normal, expected thing, a kind of milestone of the age she was. There were plenty of other ways for wizards to travel, most of them much safer, but she’d never really questioned it. Once she was old enough, she enrolled in apparition lessons.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the extra coursework, academics had never been her strongest point despite her mother’s insistence that she was only ever a little added effort away from straight O’s. As a long time fan of everything flying, it was at least actually pretty interesting. It lacked the thrill of flying, but carried some of the same motion sickness, the same requirements for attention because crashes—or [i]splinching[/i], with apparition—could be deadly. Phyllis had read reports of those accidents before in the newspapers her mother would get, and frankly, she would not like that to happen to her.
But she wasn’t going into it scared, either, that just wasn’t how Phyllis did things. On the first day they got to practice any actual apparition—just tiny, controlled jumps—she was a part of those in the room that were excited rather than those chewing nails or glancing repeatedly at the clock. And on that first day it served her quite well, because worry was a distractor and distractions were often where apparitions failed.
Was she a bit overconfident? Yeah, probably. By the third day of real practice, she felt like she had the hang of it and was paying a bit less attention. She remembered thinking that the sky out the windows was such a brilliant blue and she’d love to fly in it later. Then it was her turn to apparate, and everything seemed fine until she realized they were staring and someone cried, “Phyllis, your hair!” Which was when she discovered that she’d in fact left a good foot of hair behind.
It was a lucky splinch. She hadn’t lost anything important and painful. Phyllis actually really [i]liked[/i] her new accidental haircut, the short length and the loss of weight off her shoulders, though her mother almost threw a fit about it. It was enough to remind her, though, that she was dealing with very serious magic and that she had never been an especially skilled witch, so it was her very best attention or the risk of leaving behind something worse next time.
With more intentionality, she finished the course. On the day of the exam, she apparated exactly where they wanted her to and didn’t leave even an inch of hair behind. Her wand, of course, never one to be quiet, produced the loudest crack of the day, but that wasn’t a disqualifying factor so she earned herself a shiny new apparition license.[/reducio]
[b]Extracurricular:[/b]
Is your character a Broom Racer? No
Is your character a Quidditch Player? Yes - Keeper
Is your character a Duellist? No[/quote]APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1
Edited trunk code to make it clear wisdom has +2 from statistically relevant as it was not clear before.
Phylicia Stanwood (iNPC) • Aislin Darragh (2nd gen)
STA 14 • EVA 15 • STR 8 • WIS 18 • ARC 12 • ACC 19
Sixth Sense • Evasive Maneuvers • Prodigal DADA • Perfectionist • Impartial • Nonverbal Magic • Restricted DADA
STA 14 • EVA 15 • STR 8 • WIS 18 • ARC 12 • ACC 19
Sixth Sense • Evasive Maneuvers • Prodigal DADA • Perfectionist • Impartial • Nonverbal Magic • Restricted DADA
Ilvermorny NPC
Name: Basil (pronounced bah-zil) Blackwood
School: Ilvermorny
Year: Third
Status: Pureblood
Appearance:
Basil is a rather small boy, 4'10" and thin to match. He doesn't look similar to his family's common appearance of tall, blond hair, and blue eyes, rather he has brown hair that is slightly curly, hazel eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, and warm olive skin. He wears comfortable sweaters and blazers, that always look a bit more like they belong on a sixty-five-year-old librarian than a twelve-year-old boy, and the big wire-framed glasses he wears complete the look.
Personality:
Basil is incredibly shy and quiet. Used to the quiet company (or lack thereof) of homeschooling, libraries, and high society, the excitement of Ilvermorny or the rest of the outside world has the boy hiding behind whatever he can. Whether that be a book, family member, or even a reasonably tall hedge. He's kind-hearted to a fault, and very academically inclined, but incredibly sheltered due to his upbringing. He doesn't know any better, so he's afraid of the so-called "abnormal", a.k.a the half-breeds, halfbloods, or even muggleborns of the world. All because of the stories his grandmother tells him not of their evil doing, but rather of the terrible life they are doomed to suffer. She is always warning him not to let them rub off on him lest he suffer the same fate, ostracized from the "right" kind of society. Just about the only thing that can get him out of his shell is his incredible fascination with dragons.
History:
Basil was born December 17th 2010, and belongs to the Blackwood family, an elitist pureblooded family that lives in the southern United States where they own a large estate. They are an old family, with their claim to fortune coming from a long history in the ebony wood trade business. They specialize in wand wood, but since that sort of quality wood is rare and far between, they have spent the generations selling the leftover iconic dark colored wood to wizards and witches (and a few muggles when money was tight) around the world.
Coming from this family of old money is quite isolating for a young boy, especially one as shy as Basil by nature. He spends most of his time in the estate with his grandmother, Elaine Blackwood, and his fathers, Alexander Blackwood and Jonathon Blackwood. Elaine is a severe woman, with a firm view on what is right and wrong and what is to be expected from every member of the family. While that may sound cruel, she did truly love every member of her household, and never held back when buying gifts, mostly in the form of books and magical pets for her grandchild, despite her strict nature. His Dad, Jon, came from another pureblood family and works as a bookkeeper for MACUSA. His father Alexander is in charge of inheriting the estate, and the two spent most of their time around the house together reading and learning. His dad Jon is an eccentric man, antisocial at the best of times, but loving with those he cares about. His father Alexander on the other hand is very affectionate and has a habit of caring for anyone or anything he can.
His biological mother is a surrogate from a pureblood family of similar status, but she has never been very present in his life, and he has no interest in her beyond the distant curiosity of a blood relation. He would very rarely hear of his aunt, a woman named Margaret. His grandmother was adamant that she was living a terrible life in England, stuck with no fortune on a small farm with a Muggleborn wife and a daughter attending Hogwarts named Tesla Stone (see: Tesla's family mentioned here). She'd tell him this was the true curse of lycanthropy and dirtied blood- a lonely existence struggling simply to survive.
This of course made him hesitant to reach out and explore the world, afraid of being cursed like his aunt. Instead, he preferred to spend his time in the house with his fascinating encyclopedias on dragons and hippogriffs and all manner of creatures. He didn't have many friends growing up, so his closest companions were his pets and his family. His first instance of magic was when everyone in the house was attending to business and he was left alone for a few hours, without more than a nanny to check in on him every now and then. The seven-year-old grew so bored that his wooden model of a dragon came to life and flew around the room, causing the whole house to come investigate the source of the delighted laughing and screaming from the normally quiet boy.
He attended Ilvermorny starting September 2022, where he remained quiet and withdrawn; shy and antisocial. He was chosen to be in the Horned Serpent house, which he was overjoyed about, seeing as it strongly resembles a dragon and Basil thought that was very cool.
Is your character a Broom Racer? NO.
Is your character a Quidditch Player? NO.
Is your character a Duelist? NO.
Stats: 47 Total- Third Year and hufflepuff quidditch win 1 and Quidditch win 2
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 8
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 10
ArcPower: 11
Accuracy: 10
Abilities: Tbd.
Edit: Thank you for fixing the DOB! I meant to correct the name Martin to Alexander. Alexander is Basil's biological dad, and Jon is Alexander's husband.
School: Ilvermorny
Year: Third
Status: Pureblood
Appearance:
Basil is a rather small boy, 4'10" and thin to match. He doesn't look similar to his family's common appearance of tall, blond hair, and blue eyes, rather he has brown hair that is slightly curly, hazel eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, and warm olive skin. He wears comfortable sweaters and blazers, that always look a bit more like they belong on a sixty-five-year-old librarian than a twelve-year-old boy, and the big wire-framed glasses he wears complete the look.
Personality:
Basil is incredibly shy and quiet. Used to the quiet company (or lack thereof) of homeschooling, libraries, and high society, the excitement of Ilvermorny or the rest of the outside world has the boy hiding behind whatever he can. Whether that be a book, family member, or even a reasonably tall hedge. He's kind-hearted to a fault, and very academically inclined, but incredibly sheltered due to his upbringing. He doesn't know any better, so he's afraid of the so-called "abnormal", a.k.a the half-breeds, halfbloods, or even muggleborns of the world. All because of the stories his grandmother tells him not of their evil doing, but rather of the terrible life they are doomed to suffer. She is always warning him not to let them rub off on him lest he suffer the same fate, ostracized from the "right" kind of society. Just about the only thing that can get him out of his shell is his incredible fascination with dragons.
History:
Basil was born December 17th 2010, and belongs to the Blackwood family, an elitist pureblooded family that lives in the southern United States where they own a large estate. They are an old family, with their claim to fortune coming from a long history in the ebony wood trade business. They specialize in wand wood, but since that sort of quality wood is rare and far between, they have spent the generations selling the leftover iconic dark colored wood to wizards and witches (and a few muggles when money was tight) around the world.
Coming from this family of old money is quite isolating for a young boy, especially one as shy as Basil by nature. He spends most of his time in the estate with his grandmother, Elaine Blackwood, and his fathers, Alexander Blackwood and Jonathon Blackwood. Elaine is a severe woman, with a firm view on what is right and wrong and what is to be expected from every member of the family. While that may sound cruel, she did truly love every member of her household, and never held back when buying gifts, mostly in the form of books and magical pets for her grandchild, despite her strict nature. His Dad, Jon, came from another pureblood family and works as a bookkeeper for MACUSA. His father Alexander is in charge of inheriting the estate, and the two spent most of their time around the house together reading and learning. His dad Jon is an eccentric man, antisocial at the best of times, but loving with those he cares about. His father Alexander on the other hand is very affectionate and has a habit of caring for anyone or anything he can.
His biological mother is a surrogate from a pureblood family of similar status, but she has never been very present in his life, and he has no interest in her beyond the distant curiosity of a blood relation. He would very rarely hear of his aunt, a woman named Margaret. His grandmother was adamant that she was living a terrible life in England, stuck with no fortune on a small farm with a Muggleborn wife and a daughter attending Hogwarts named Tesla Stone (see: Tesla's family mentioned here). She'd tell him this was the true curse of lycanthropy and dirtied blood- a lonely existence struggling simply to survive.
This of course made him hesitant to reach out and explore the world, afraid of being cursed like his aunt. Instead, he preferred to spend his time in the house with his fascinating encyclopedias on dragons and hippogriffs and all manner of creatures. He didn't have many friends growing up, so his closest companions were his pets and his family. His first instance of magic was when everyone in the house was attending to business and he was left alone for a few hours, without more than a nanny to check in on him every now and then. The seven-year-old grew so bored that his wooden model of a dragon came to life and flew around the room, causing the whole house to come investigate the source of the delighted laughing and screaming from the normally quiet boy.
He attended Ilvermorny starting September 2022, where he remained quiet and withdrawn; shy and antisocial. He was chosen to be in the Horned Serpent house, which he was overjoyed about, seeing as it strongly resembles a dragon and Basil thought that was very cool.
Is your character a Broom Racer? NO.
Is your character a Quidditch Player? NO.
Is your character a Duelist? NO.
Stats: 47 Total- Third Year and hufflepuff quidditch win 1 and Quidditch win 2
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 8
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 10
ArcPower: 11
Accuracy: 10
Abilities: Tbd.
Edit: Thank you for fixing the DOB! I meant to correct the name Martin to Alexander. Alexander is Basil's biological dad, and Jon is Alexander's husband.
Pending - Sept 21 Lear
This is a very minor edit, your character is too young. They should be 13 as a year 3, this means that their year of birth would be 1 year further back.
Pending Sept 24 Lear
I fixed your DOB in hopes I could show someone I was onboarding how to finalize a character. Unfortunately they can read. They noticed you have 3 days - Jon, Martin and Alexander. Which of these men is your dad?
Tesla Stone⭑☾☀☽⭑ ⭑☾𖣂☽⭑Basil Blackwood
Ilvermorny NPC
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~Trunk~
ABILITTY APPLICATIONReducioWerewolf:ReducioLucy was five years old when the most horrible thing that could have ever happened to her happened. She was playing in the woods with her seven year old brother, smiling as he told her stories about wood nymphs. They were out camping, and her mother and father had left to get some supplies from the nearby camping store, telling the kids not to go outside the tent. It was a full moon, and the scene shined down brightly on Lucy, making her feel happy and relaxed. She yawned, and snuggled closer to her brother.
All of a sudden, she heard a howling noise from the woods. It sounded like a wolf, but slightly different. She shivered, bolting upright. Even at the young age she was at, she could feel that something was off. Her brother frowned beside her, stopping his storytelling. "Lucy, do you hear that?" He asked, sounding as scared as she felt. Lucy nodded, leaning into her brother farther.
The howling noise went closer, making her shiver. Something was very wrong. As the noise got closer and closer, Lucy shrank back into the tent, tears coming out of her eyes she was so scared. "I don't like this." She wailed. Her brother only nodded, keeping his eyes on the front of the tent.
The howling noise suddenly stopped, and instead she heard footsteps. But not any footsteps that could belong to a human. No, these were footsteps of some sort of creature, some sort of monster. Lucy stared at the tent with wide eyes. It was there that she saw the wolf. Well, it wasn't really a wolf. Lucy thought she saw some humanness in it, by the way it stood on two legs. She turned to her brother, who knew about all sorts of magical animals.
He shuddered as he saw it, paling. "A werewolf." He muttered. Lucy froze, terrified. Werewolves were not supposed to exist. Magic was not supposed to exist. She clutched her brother, close to fainting now.
The werewolf howled as it saw them, and then started to advance. "Help." Lucy whimpered. And then it was upon them. It growled at them, and bit her brother, who collapsed on the floor, his eyes closed in pain. Lucy scrambled away from it, running. It turned away from Michael, narrowing in on her. She had a head start, but she wasn't very fast, so it started to catch up quickly. Lucy looked back at the werewolf and tripped on a root, falling to the ground. She stared up at the werewolf as it reached her, and howled at the sky. Then it bit her leg, and pain exploded in her mind. She screamed in pain and fear, and saw the ugly red of blood start to pop up on her skin. Darkness welcomed her from the pain, and she gladly accepted it, falling into unconsciousness.
Some while later, her parents would find her and her brother with their bites. They immediately apparated to Saint Mungos, panicked about their children. Lucy would find out that she was aa werewolf when she woke up, and be horribly sad about it. She does learn though, that being a werewolf is fine if you take the potion, and you tell no one. So that's exactly what she did.
Ability 2:Reducio
Ability 3:Reducio
BROOM RACER QUIDDITCH PLAYER DUELIST
stamina 5 | evasion 6 | strength 7
wisdom 7 | arc power 5 | accuracy 5
Coded By: @Draven Mirador
Approved Lear Sept 24Pending Lear - Sept 24
This has pretty much everything we are looking for except we need an image of your character. A banner or something akin to an avatar. We basically treat this like an avatar, this image (or similar with face claims) is the visual depiction of your character and would be used in your IC posts on site with this iNPC.
Link to Encyclopedia page
Ilvermorny NPC
NPC Name: Elias Travers
Link: the luckiest duck
Year: Second
Stats: not applicable
Abilities: not applicable
Extracurricular: joining Duelling
Content Changes: joining Duelling, clarifying Lane should be Lance because I'm just the czar of leaving letters out of names
Trunk Coding:
Link: the luckiest duck
Year: Second
Stats: not applicable
Abilities: not applicable
Extracurricular: joining Duelling
Content Changes: joining Duelling, clarifying Lane should be Lance because I'm just the czar of leaving letters out of names
Trunk Coding:
Code: Select all
[b]Is your character a Broom Racer?[/b] NO
[b]Is your character a Quidditch Player?[/b] NO
[b]Is your character a Duelist?[/b] YES
[b]Stats:[/b] STA 9 \ Eva 8 \ Str 4 \ Wis 8 \ ARC 3 \ ACC 8
[b]Abilities:[/b] Sixth Sense
WC: 531
[reducio]Elias was three. He was in his mother's office, playing with a set of blocks. He stacked them up and up before he sent them crashing right back down in one swoop of his pudgy hand. Almost immediately, he looked up at his mother, sensing a change in the atmosphere. She had swiveled towards him in her office chair, signing, [i]No knocking down your toys. Go into the playroom to do that[/i]. Elias' eyes flicked over her hands as she signed slowly, taking in every movement of her fingers. He signed back [i]Yes, Mom[/i] and picked up his blocks before toddling into the playroom.
Elias was six. He sat outside, gazing around the neighborhood playground on a white winter morning. His eyes, the only part of his face that showed, stared up at the cloudless and bright blue sky. He felt a warmth at his back and turned, signing [i]Hello[/i]? It was Cara, his neighbor and friend, with her gloved hand outstretched as if to tap him on the shoulder.
[i]Hi[/i]! she signed. [i]I wanted to surprise you, but it's almost like you sensed me there[/i]! Cara's lips moved as her fingers did, sort of stiff in the gloves.
Elias smiled and shrugged. [i]Maybe I did[/i]. Cara's mouth opened in what Elias had learned to recognize was a laugh. [i]Would you like to build a snowman while there's good snow[/i]? Cara signed back and enthusiastic yes and the two kids began rolling up huge snowballs to make a snow friend.
Elias was nine. He walked alone in the school hallway, waving at anyone that waved to him and offering up a broad smile for all the world to see. He saw kids with their mouths moving faster than he could sign, and saw feet stomping, and a phone out with Spotify pulled up. Not for the first time in his short life, the boy wondered what it would be like to hear.
At that moment, Elias began to feel uncomfortable. He glanced over his shoulder a few times. He wondered where Lance was, the young man no where in sight. Elias decided to walk all the way to the end of the hall before doubling back to his next class, but he still felt off. Elias glanced behind him one last time to see none other than Lance Hutchins jump out from an open doorway with his hands outstretched, seemingly to grab Elias on the shoulders. Elias' eyes widened. Lance quickly straightened up with a disappointed look on his face. [i]No fun to scare, Eli[/i], he signed with a tiny smile, using Elias' name sign reserved for friends and family.
Elias grinned and signed back, [i]You're just no good at scaring[/i]. Lance waved him off before leading the younger boy into his next class.
To make up for the lack of one of his most crucial senses, Elias' spacial awareness, visual perception, and multiple facets of his sense of touch seem to have developed more than the average person in order to compensate.[/reducio]
Ability: Cat's Grace
WC: 413/400
[reducio]Elias is a lithe and slender boy, light in weight and on his feet compared to his peers. Through a lifetime of having to constantly be on his toes in case anything he couldn't hear coming snuck up on him, he's become as quiet as the silence that permeates his being.
On any average day in the Travers household, you will hear three types of footsteps: the loud, purposeful strides of Brendon and Lance, the quick pattering or tapping of Parker's urgent migration from kitchen to office, and the ever so soft footfalls of Elias. He oft wore socks, further muffling his steps to the point of almost perfect silence.
This proved problematic in several instances. While at school, it was oft hard for Lance to keep track of his charge, especially when Eli first transferred. A mop of brown hair, average height for a young boy, it didn't really stick out in the hordes of other elementary children. There was no distinctive voice or sound to follow either. If Elias hadn't been so sensitive to Lance's presence, the young man would have probably gone gray by now. While at home, Brendon and Parker would experience spikes in anxiety so often it would seem both had an anxiety disorder (which may be the case with Parker, but I digress) due to how often they simply couldn't find him. Calling his name was not their best option, nor could they simply listen out for him. He was simply a silent boy trapped in a bubble of noiselessness.
Over the winter holiday of 2023, this "talent" or quality of Elias came to extreme light. One would expect, even with a quiet lad such as himself, Elias' return would rock the temporary new world his parents had found themselves in since his acceptance and departure to Ilvermorny. One would expect them to hear his steps with new clarity, but he surprised them more than ever. He would enter the silent office of his mother as she poured over her QuickBooks and tap her on the shoulder, causing her to jump clear out of her chair before laughing and signing [color=#8ac0e3]You sneak! You scared me![/color]
In New York, it was doubly so. Both parents kept vigilant watch on the boy and tried to keep a physical connection, holding hands, a hand on the shoulder, whatever they could, at all times. They were terrified of an accidental slip away that would lose them their precious son forever.[/reducio]STATUS: Approved, Linda Ramirez, 4 October
Ilvermorny NPC
Trunk Coding: The following (if possible);NPC Name: Casey Stone
Link: Casey Stone
Year: Second Year
Stats: Inapplicable
Abilities: Inapplicable
Extracurricular: N/A
Content Changes: N/A
Code: Select all
[quote][b]Is your character a Broom Racer?[/b] NO
[b]Is your character a Quidditch Player?[/b] NO
[b]Is your character a Duelist?[/b] NO
[b]Stats:[/b] Stamina: 8 | Strength: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Wisdom: 6 | Arc Power: 6 | Accuracy: 6[/quote]
[quote][center][size=150][b][u]ABILITIES[/u][/b][/size][/center]
[center][size=125][b][u]FEARLESS[/u][/b][/size][/center]
[reducio]Growing up, Casey always admired his older brother Nick’s adventurous and courageous attitude. Initially a timid child, Casey wanted to learn to be bolder and braver, wanting to overcome the more popular fears children would have. As such, when Casey was big enough, Nick offered him the chance to join him whenever he went to go hiking during the weekend.
With these weekend journeys Casey learnt to get stronger through endurance and braver through experience. He quickly became accustomed to heights and now treats it as a personal accomplishment to get to the top or near the top of any building or mountain as possible. Similarly when on holidays with the family, Casey was always the first to jump into the ocean from the cliffside – mind you he would do this from a small height given that he was still a young boy, but his willingness to be the first to do it was enough to hint to everyone around him that he had a brave bone in his body.
As his father was a potioneer, Casey often spotted the strange and bizarre ingredients needed for the variety of potions he would make. Some of those ingredients would’ve needed to be harvested and extracted such as caterpillars and earthworms. As a result, Casey is no stranger to bugs and has no fear of them, and through stories and fairytales told by his mother, particularly those of heroic warriors fighting dragons and other similar creatures from old fairytales, magical and Muggle alike, he feels empowered by the warriors behind those tales to be brave.
With Nick’s adventurous spirit, his father’s work and his mother’s stories, Casey takes everything in stride and lives by the mantra his brother taught him whilst on their hiking journeys together – “No regrets, no fear.” This further emboldened Casey’s brave nature and while every so often he could feel intimidated, he nevertheless overpowers his reservations with his sense of adventure and by pushing forward, learning not to let anything stand in his way. To be doubtful and lack confidence in himself was the meaning Casey learnt to remember whenever Nick reminded him of his mantra
His bravery and fearlessness would be cemented when he does his best to honour Nick after he goes missing, remaining strong and independent as he navigates his life on his own until he eventually finds his missing brother, whether he was alive or dead. No matter what, he would push forward and face everything with a brave spirit. As well as this, Casey has begun creating his own mantra, partially derived from his memories of Nick and his own experiences – “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” – A parallel to his brother’s words which Casey follows by to enhance his resilient and fearless personality, even if he must do it alone.
(Word Count: 466)[/reducio]
[center][size=125][b][u]POISON RESISTANCE[/u][/b][/size][/center]
[reducio]Casey had been fortunate enough to grow up in a household surrounded by the intricate art of potion making, all thanks to his father's work. As a small child he would safely watch from a distance as his father worked to the bone in the spare room where he kept his ingredients and equipment, boiling and brewing potions which he would sell to the public. The entire process was fascinating but of course, like any curious child, Casey always wanted to know what every single potion looked like up close, what they smelt like... Even what they tasted like.
Every so often, there would be a potion that his father would allow him to ingest, under the upmost safe conditions depending on what it was. Some of these potions were harmless such as the Calming Draught, used every so often if Casey woke up from a bad dream, or even the Confidence Boosting Brew if Casey was ever down a deep spiral of self-doubt. One one occasion, Casey was made to drink a small sampling of the Truth Serum after being suspected of stealing cookies from the jar - he did. Only one though!
Some of the more powerful potions he would be allowed to take required precautions managed by his father, such as the Strengthening Potion - when Casey took it for the first time at age 9 he accidentally made a dent in the wall. Now if he ever took it he would have to take it outside where he would cause less damage.
However, there would be a day when kids get their hands on something they shouldn't have - in this case, there would be a day when Casey would ingest something he shouldn't have. So on the rare chance that his father would accidentally leave his workshop door open - even slightly - Casey would jump at the opportunity to sneak in without being noticed to taste a potion. With the vast variety of potions, ranging from harmless to extremely dangerous, it was a complete gamble with which potion Casey would fortunately (or unfortunately) drink. One example, at age 10, Casey drunk what he thought was something herbal, perhaps a remedy for injuries or headaches - it was in fact Venomous Tentacula Juice. While it was non-fatal, it gave off the burning sensation of a poison and he was immediately treated when his parents discovered the horrid purple colour of his skin, topped with his discomfort.
At another occasion when Casey snuck in, he was caught tasting a potion that he thought looked like an enhancer of some kind. It was in fact the Dizziness Draught. After these two mishaps in particular, his father made physical notes around his workshop to remind him to lock the door every time he left to do something else as to prevent Casey from drinking any more of his potions.
However, Casey has attained a slight resistance to some of the ingredients in what he's ingested over the years. One time, half-awake one morning, Casey drank what he thought was flavoured juice... He somehow managed to ingest the Dizziness Draught. Again! However this time the effects weren't nearly as severe. Mind you, he still felt the symptoms but he recovered much quickly this time. Though he couldn't recover any quicker when getting a strong reprimand from his father, even if it was by accident that time.
(Word Count: 567)[/reducio]Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
Ilvermorny NPC
NPC Name: Cyrus Darsel
Link: en-CY-clopedia
Year: 7th
Stats: no change
Abilities: no change
Extracurricular: no change
Content Changes: Making changes to the history section of the encyclopedia. Adding more detail, better writing and also setting up for a relationship to a character a RL friend of mine is planning on making. Old history, new history and a summary of changes in the reducio below:
Trunk Coding: requesting a small change here! no content change, just updating format. coding in reducio!
Thank you so much!
koko riddle · 'pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.'
Link: en-CY-clopedia
Year: 7th
Stats: no change
Abilities: no change
Extracurricular: no change
Content Changes: Making changes to the history section of the encyclopedia. Adding more detail, better writing and also setting up for a relationship to a character a RL friend of mine is planning on making. Old history, new history and a summary of changes in the reducio below:
Reducio
Old history:
New history:
Summary of changes:
- I named Cyrus's parents! Finally! His biological dad is now Schuyler Darsel and his biological mum was Aurelie Delaire.
- I clarified Cyrus's relationship to his aunt and uncle, and I also gave them surnames. 'Aunt Teresa' is now legally Teresa Carey, who was married to 'Uncle Eric', who was legally Eric Delaire. I specified that Eric was Aurelie's brother. I also specified that Teresa was a half-blood and fled the British magical world because of the Second Wizarding War
- I specified the reason for Cyrus's parents transferring legal guardianship to his aunt and uncle. It is now due to implied alcohol issues on Aurelie's end and general absentness on Schuyler's end.
- I specified that Cyrus's biological parents divorced after transferring guardianship of him.
- I changed that Cyrus had been noted as being historically shy. I have never RPed him as being shy. Going back to my very first thread with him, he's always been a little firecracker of flamboyance.
- I wrote a bit about what happened to Cyrus's biological parents after the transfer of guardianship:
Reducio
Cyrus was born on 1 September 2006. He was born to two Muggle billionaires who travelled abroad for their work. He was either left at home or with his aunt and uncle, who lived in Manhattan. By the time Cyrus was three years old, his parents left him in the care of his aunt and uncle for months at a time before transferring legal guardianship over. Cy still sees his parents, but it is more as if they are family friends than his biological family. Cyrus's aunt is a witch, and when he first showed signs of magic - by healing a finger which he cut while chopping carrots - she told him about the Wizarding World. Cyrus was pleased to know that he could use magic, but he didn't know how. He also did not learn much about Illvermorny until he received his acceptance letter because his aunt was from Ireland and therefore went to Hogwarts instead.
Cyrus was Sorted into Thunderbird due to his love of adventure and his mannerisms. He was always shy, but once one got to know the boy, he was a real troublemaker. The kid would usually manage to get out of trouble, be it by begging or just not getting caught. Based on what his aunt told him about Hogwarts, he was extremely glad he didn't go there because he has heard many bad things about it such as the Battle of Hogwarts. His aunt tells him that it will be fine, but Cy can't be sure.
Cyrus was born in America, travelled with his parents to live in London for a few years, and then he went back to America where he would stay with his aunt and uncle. Cyrus has always been looking forward to go to Ilvermorny, and now that he is in his Second Year he believes that things cannot get any better. He can only wait and see. During his First Year, he made himself familiar with watching duelling, so he knows strategy but is too shy to get involved himself. Cyrus is ready to make new friends and break out of his shell.
Cyrus was Sorted into Thunderbird due to his love of adventure and his mannerisms. He was always shy, but once one got to know the boy, he was a real troublemaker. The kid would usually manage to get out of trouble, be it by begging or just not getting caught. Based on what his aunt told him about Hogwarts, he was extremely glad he didn't go there because he has heard many bad things about it such as the Battle of Hogwarts. His aunt tells him that it will be fine, but Cy can't be sure.
Cyrus was born in America, travelled with his parents to live in London for a few years, and then he went back to America where he would stay with his aunt and uncle. Cyrus has always been looking forward to go to Ilvermorny, and now that he is in his Second Year he believes that things cannot get any better. He can only wait and see. During his First Year, he made himself familiar with watching duelling, so he knows strategy but is too shy to get involved himself. Cyrus is ready to make new friends and break out of his shell.
New history:
Reducio
Cyrus Alexander Darsel was born to Schuyler Darsel, an American businessman and billionaire, and his then-wife, Aurelie Delaire, on 1 September 2006. Aurelie, a former film star and model, had married Schuyler due to familial pressures and was generally unhappy in her marriage. Schuyler, having wanted an heir to his company, was pleased when Aurelie gave birth to their son, whom she named Cyrus Alexander, much to the dismay of Schuyler, who wanted to name their son Edward because that name meant ‘wealth guard’. Aurelie, it seemed, had different priorities than Schuyler.
Schuyler and Aurelie travelled often for Schuyler’s work, and they generally hired nannies for Cyrus or left him at the home of Aurelie’s brother, Eric, with his aunt Teresa. Little did the toddler know, during these trips, rather than being with Schuyler, Aurelie invested in alcohol, ultimately becoming what the media dubbed as a ‘tragic star’, who many news outlets said ‘shone brightly’ before her explosive divorce with one of the richest men in America. A few less-mainstream outlets shone light on Schuyler’s penchant for flirtation with other women. But who would criticise one of the richest men in America when Aurelie was right there?
Even the way the media covered the divorce was something that brought resentment to the Darsel-Delaire household.
It was no surprise, then, that they would transfer the guardianship of their son to Eric Delaire and his wife, Teresa Carey. Eric, a banker, and Teresa, a half-blood who had fled the British magical world during the Second Wizarding War, took Cyrus in with open arms and loving hearts, giving him a happy place in their home in East Village, Manhattan. Cyrus was three when this occurred.
Cyrus took after his biological mother in ways that were perhaps for the better. Idealistic and absentminded, he learned to appreciate his creativity and assert himself in a world that did not always appreciate his eccentricity. He struggled in school not due to any malintent on his part. However, since he was always put into schools that did not accommodate his ways of learning, he tended to grow restless in class and fall behind easily. He has never had good focus, and this began in his elementary school days.
Cyrus was helping his aunt and uncle cook dinner when, one night, he was chopping carrots and accidentally cut his finger. This sparked his first accidental instance of magic; he was seven. His cut knit itself together, and he stared at it in awe before telling his aunt, who quickly recognised what the incident meant and explained the magical world to Cyrus. The imaginative and gullible boy had little trouble believing his aunt.
He was magic. That was the coolest thing that had happened to him, ever.
As for his biological parents…
After the divorce, Aurelie did her best to visit her brother, his wife and Cyrus. She feared that Cyrus would become obsessed with money and image like his father, so she did her best to impart life lessons to him. His time with her largely shaped his moral compass and his tendency to see the good in everyone. The two sometimes went to art classes and cooking classes together. Sometimes, she contemplated having Cyrus live with her, raising him as a single mother. A few times, she let him see her work. Most people did not like having a jubilant little boy on the set of a film, but a few others thought he was cute.
None of this was meant to last, it seemed. Aurelie had gone on a day trip to DC with her new boyfriend, and the two of them got into a fatal car crash. Cyrus was five at the time. Teresa and Eric noticed that the boy seemed to be sad for about a day before almost brushing off – or more likely forcing himself to forget – what had happened.
Cyrus’s father, Schuyler, was not done with tumultuous marriages. While on a business trip in Hull, England, he met Guinevere Angelova, a dazzling philanthropist. Their short marriage was all over the news, as was news of their child. But after a few years, Schuyler and Guinevere felt more resentment than affection towards one another, so they had a quiet divorce, and Schuyler returned to the United States to focus on his business.
Cyrus, having never been very aware of the outside world, and having not been in contact with his dad since his first instance of magic, was rather unaware any of this occurred.
Schuyler and Aurelie travelled often for Schuyler’s work, and they generally hired nannies for Cyrus or left him at the home of Aurelie’s brother, Eric, with his aunt Teresa. Little did the toddler know, during these trips, rather than being with Schuyler, Aurelie invested in alcohol, ultimately becoming what the media dubbed as a ‘tragic star’, who many news outlets said ‘shone brightly’ before her explosive divorce with one of the richest men in America. A few less-mainstream outlets shone light on Schuyler’s penchant for flirtation with other women. But who would criticise one of the richest men in America when Aurelie was right there?
Even the way the media covered the divorce was something that brought resentment to the Darsel-Delaire household.
It was no surprise, then, that they would transfer the guardianship of their son to Eric Delaire and his wife, Teresa Carey. Eric, a banker, and Teresa, a half-blood who had fled the British magical world during the Second Wizarding War, took Cyrus in with open arms and loving hearts, giving him a happy place in their home in East Village, Manhattan. Cyrus was three when this occurred.
Cyrus took after his biological mother in ways that were perhaps for the better. Idealistic and absentminded, he learned to appreciate his creativity and assert himself in a world that did not always appreciate his eccentricity. He struggled in school not due to any malintent on his part. However, since he was always put into schools that did not accommodate his ways of learning, he tended to grow restless in class and fall behind easily. He has never had good focus, and this began in his elementary school days.
Cyrus was helping his aunt and uncle cook dinner when, one night, he was chopping carrots and accidentally cut his finger. This sparked his first accidental instance of magic; he was seven. His cut knit itself together, and he stared at it in awe before telling his aunt, who quickly recognised what the incident meant and explained the magical world to Cyrus. The imaginative and gullible boy had little trouble believing his aunt.
He was magic. That was the coolest thing that had happened to him, ever.
As for his biological parents…
After the divorce, Aurelie did her best to visit her brother, his wife and Cyrus. She feared that Cyrus would become obsessed with money and image like his father, so she did her best to impart life lessons to him. His time with her largely shaped his moral compass and his tendency to see the good in everyone. The two sometimes went to art classes and cooking classes together. Sometimes, she contemplated having Cyrus live with her, raising him as a single mother. A few times, she let him see her work. Most people did not like having a jubilant little boy on the set of a film, but a few others thought he was cute.
None of this was meant to last, it seemed. Aurelie had gone on a day trip to DC with her new boyfriend, and the two of them got into a fatal car crash. Cyrus was five at the time. Teresa and Eric noticed that the boy seemed to be sad for about a day before almost brushing off – or more likely forcing himself to forget – what had happened.
Cyrus’s father, Schuyler, was not done with tumultuous marriages. While on a business trip in Hull, England, he met Guinevere Angelova, a dazzling philanthropist. Their short marriage was all over the news, as was news of their child. But after a few years, Schuyler and Guinevere felt more resentment than affection towards one another, so they had a quiet divorce, and Schuyler returned to the United States to focus on his business.
Cyrus, having never been very aware of the outside world, and having not been in contact with his dad since his first instance of magic, was rather unaware any of this occurred.
Summary of changes:
- I named Cyrus's parents! Finally! His biological dad is now Schuyler Darsel and his biological mum was Aurelie Delaire.
- I clarified Cyrus's relationship to his aunt and uncle, and I also gave them surnames. 'Aunt Teresa' is now legally Teresa Carey, who was married to 'Uncle Eric', who was legally Eric Delaire. I specified that Eric was Aurelie's brother. I also specified that Teresa was a half-blood and fled the British magical world because of the Second Wizarding War
- I specified the reason for Cyrus's parents transferring legal guardianship to his aunt and uncle. It is now due to implied alcohol issues on Aurelie's end and general absentness on Schuyler's end.
- I specified that Cyrus's biological parents divorced after transferring guardianship of him.
- I changed that Cyrus had been noted as being historically shy. I have never RPed him as being shy. Going back to my very first thread with him, he's always been a little firecracker of flamboyance.
- I wrote a bit about what happened to Cyrus's biological parents after the transfer of guardianship:
- Cyrus's mum spent time with him for a few years (before his first instance of magic), but when he was five, she died as a result of a car accident. Cyrus largely blocked this out of his memory. As Cyrus is a Muggle-born, neither of his biological parents have access to magical healing.
- Cyrus's dad met a philanthropist, Guinevere Angelova, in England. They married and had a child. They divorced shortly after. Cyrus knows nothing about this.
Trunk Coding: requesting a small change here! no content change, just updating format. coding in reducio!
Reducio
Code: Select all
[center][size=150][b]The Case of Cyrus Alexander Darsel, the Great[/b][/size][/center]
[right][I]page 2: the trunk[/I][/right]
[center][i][b]'why are we already talking about what's next? i'm not done with right now.'[/b][/i][/center]
[center][img]/images/upload/pjn50p.webp[/img][/center]
[center][size=120][b]Stats:[/b][/size][/center][center]+9 to Stats from Quidditch wins: [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=8714&start=50#p149357]i[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=15344&start=180#p255616]ii[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=16400&p=269317#p269317]iii[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=19424&start=170#p373361]iv[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=23357&start=70#p522642]v[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=740216#p740216]vi[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=853518#p853518]vii[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=965079#p965079]viii[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=989812#p989812]ix[/url].
[b]Stamina:[/b] 10 · [b]Evasion:[/b] 10 · [b]Strength:[/b] 10 · [b]Wisdom[/b] 10 · [b]Arcane Power:[/b] 17 · [b]Accuracy:[/b] 17[/center]
[center][size=120][b]Extracurricular:[/b][/size][/center][center]Duellist[/center]
[center][size=120][b]Abilities:[/b][/size][/center][b]Year 1:[/b] Fearless
[reducio]Cyrus was the type of boy who was full of chaos; the type of boy who would answer the "if someone jumped off a cliff, would you?" as "absolutely". Cy would do anything to prove himself, and he began running around Manhattan at the young age of seven. His parents didn't care, and he feared nothing. The world didn't scare him, so he did as he pleased.
By the time his aunt and uncle became prominent figures in his life, Cyrus was used to doing things by himself. He made breakfast without fear of burning himself on the pan, although he needn't make lunch or dinner - his parents always ordered things for him. While the boy might have lived a moderately sheltered life - what child of businesspeople didn't? - he was lonely, and there was always a bundle of energy manifesting inside the child's heart, waiting to be set loose.
After ending school one day Cy came across a group of kids. They weren't usual schoolboys; he could see that from a single glance. Their beat-up leather jackets stood out in stark contrast to his school blazer, and the fact that some of them didn't wear shoes let Cyrus know he'd ventured into the "wrong area of town". They surrounded a much smaller boy, one that wasn't in Cyrus' year; no, he was quite a bit younger. This kid was maybe nine, if that.
Cy wasn't deterred; he wanted that child out of the situation. "Hey, idiots!" yelled the blond, only glancing down to make sure his duck-print shoelaces were tied. A brazen grin decorated his expression as he charged forward, imagining he was a knight in medieval times and that the other boy was a lass, or lad now that he thought about it, in distress. "Make way for the king!" he shouted, his words echoing around the alley.
Now, any other child would have noticed how stupid the plan was. With Cyrus, however, there really was no plan. He did things on impulse, having no fear of the consequences that might arise from his actions. Putting one foot in front of the other, he charged at the other kids, shoving one of them as hard as he could.
He wasn't quite strong enough to knock the kid over, but he got the group's attention away from the young'un and onto himself. "Get out of the way!" he whisper-yelled to the smaller boy, and he was pleased to see the other kid running out of the corner of his eye as he felt a blow land on his arm.
Cy hadn't been strong enough to fight off the kids, but it had been your average schoolboy fight - everyone got hurt, to some extent. When Cyrus returned home, a triumphant grin on his face, his aunt shot him a questioning glance as he flopped down on the couch, exhausted, and shouted "No Regrets!"
Because really, he had no regrets. The feel of adrenaline in his veins had been amazing, and he would do it again. Cy wasn't a wimp. In fact, one might call him fearless.[/reducio]
[b]Year 2:[/b] Obnoxiously Strong
[reducio]Cyrus always possessed an unmistakable amount of energy. In fact, it was one of his defining traits. His feet would always tap the floor during his Muggle classes, and his hands would [i]always[/i] be moving.
He couldn’t help it. He just had too much energy.
Since he didn’t have very many friends (he was simply an unapproachable lad sometimes. It may have been his parents; he didn’t know), he didn’t have people who would listen to his endless chatter about who knows what. His parents were always far too busy to listen to his ramblings, so he sat quietly and allowed his appendages to move as much as they liked.
After a particularly embarrassing visit to his aunt’s where he had shattered a glass while dancing as he put up the dishes, Aunt Teresa had shown him an advertisement for child memberships at a fitness centre down the street.
At first, Cyrus hadn’t been at all interested. He was perfectly fit, and he saw this… [i]flyer[/i]... as an insult to his amazing physique.
After thinking about it for a while, though, he asked his parents - who he had still lived with at the time - to sign him up. They obliged relatively quickly, probably glad to have to worry about him less, and he began to take classes.
He started out with swimming classes, but those didn’t really stick - Cyrus was already fast, and swimming didn’t really challenge him that much. The private lessons his parents had invested in made that certain.
He then went on to both weight lifting and kickboxing. He was interested in learning how to fight, both because his parents said it was something he should never learn and also because he was reminded of his favourite movie characters whenever he thought of it. Weights, though? He wanted to build up his muscles so that any fighting he learned would have an effect on whoever he used it against - not that he would attack anyone, of course.
As the years passed, Cyrus began to develop muscles, [i]real[/i] muscles. When he moved in with Aunt Teresa, he began to help around the house, and he easily surprised his aunt with how easily he could lift things. He got into fights more often, but usually to protect people [as mentioned in previous fearless app], and he changed from an annoying idiot who managed to [i]irritate[/i] bullies away to someone who could actually fend them off. He didn’t even have to punch them; he would flex his bicep and watch with a goofy grin as the spindly bully ran away from whatever younger kid they were bothering.
Cyrus was strong, but he was never [i]just[/i] strong. No, he was [i]obnoxiously[/i] strong.[/reducio]
[b]Year 3:[/b] Charmer
[reducio]Cyrus was always too much.
His parents sometimes thought it; he knew that. He didn’t mind, though. Often, he embraced it. After all, he was liked well enough, and ‘too much’ wasn’t always a bad thing.
He began to flaunt it - he would use his parents’ money to buy the most ridiculous things, such as his trademark duck-print garments or his designer jeans. He even bought a solid gold duck tie tack for his school uniform.
Things changed when he moved in with Aunt Teresa. She never thought he was too much, at least not openly.
This meant Cyrus needed to try [i]harder[/i]. He wore the most flamboyant clothes; he cut his hair into a mullet. These things never fazed Aunt Teresa, but when he went to school with a green mullet and a clown nose that squeaked, no one could stop looking at him. He was eventually sent to the headmaster’s office because he was distracting students during a test.
He received a letter from Ilvermorny the following year.
The headmaster, Lazarus Plott, was a good example in Cyrus’s mind. A very extravagant man, his mannerisms encouraged Cyrus. Cyrus grew even [i]more[/i] dramatic, into even [i]more[/i] of a class clown, until he was certain everyone would notice him.
The thing was, Cyrus didn’t know when to stop. Not by a long shot.
He dumbed himself down sometimes, trying to make people gawk. It worked, sometimes. He adopted ducks as his trademark even more, wearing them no matter what. No one would be able to look at a duck without thinking of him, nor would they be able to look at him without thinking of ducks.
He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone, although to a certain Thea Knott, he did try. ‘Regal,’ he had said about ducks, ‘strong.’ He had said they reminded him of himself, but was that true?
It was as true as he had wanted it to be, he supposed, because then maybe he could be seen as regal. He was strong. Right?
Maybe some people - Aunt Teresa - saw him as those things: elegant, regal and strong. Some others most certainly didn’t - namely his parents - but he had long since trained himself not to care. What others thought didn’t matter as long as they were thinking about him, as long as they were [i]noticing[/i] him, as long as he [i]meant[/i] something.
Cyrus was a [i]distraction[/i], and that, for now, was enough for him.[/reducio]
[b]Year 4:[/b] Impartial
[reducio]Cyrus’s Muggle teachers had always called him selfish, and for good reason. Cyrus simply didn’t care about others, or so it seemed. He was always flaunting his clothes, bragging about his wealth… Simply put, he seemed like a jerk.
Throughout the years, Cyrus had learned to only care about himself. He wasn’t necessarily self-centred - he was still [i]polite[/i] to others, after all - but he never complimented others’ appearances, never smiled without reason. One might have called him cunning had they not known that he never really had a plan in mind, that his ‘calculated’ smiles were really just his following social cues.
Because Cyrus wanted [i]himself[/i] to stand out, he tended not to notice when other people did, at least not unless they stood out more than he did, which was incredibly rare. Even the most brazen of people didn’t meet Cyrus’s standards. They had to be bold, flamboyant and witty, but they also had to possess a certain type of charm that wasn’t necessarily superficial in order to pique Cyrus’s interest - and even then, it was usually brief at best.
For example, the first person who had made Cyrus interested in them was none other than his Aunt Teresa. She was as unassuming as could be - petite, with lightly tanned skin and average features, but there was a certain kindness in her eyes that had interested him. Her nature was sweet, and she helped people without strings attached. Seeing a person so obviously good had interested Cyrus - she had not stood out. She was one with the crowd, but he was still interested in talking to her, in knowing more about her.
The only flamboyant person whose name Cyrus could easily remember was Headmaster Plott, AKA his role model. From afar, Cyrus watched in awe as the man made spectacles, and he hoped that one day he could do the same, that one day he would be powerful enough to. Once he surpassed Headmaster Plott’s abilities, something told him he would no longer feel the same level of awe. He [i]was[/i] pretty sure, however, that he would remember Headmaster Plott’s name, and not just because it was a name he heard daily as he roamed the halls of Ilvermorny. No, a role model was someone special, someone to be remembered.
He often remembered no one else.
He did remember Thea Knott, but she, like his Aunt Teresa, did not stick out in a crowd. She was shy and quiet, and that intrigued him. He was not distracted by pretty girls or pretty boys; he did not often raise his eyebrows at amateur wannabes of class clownery. He did not care what they were doing because their attempts at flamboyance could never match his own.
He really was quite impartial to those sorts of things.[/reducio]
[b]Year 5:[/b] Poison Resistance
[reducio]Cyrus has never been known for his intellect. In fact, to some, he is known for his [i]lack[/i] of brains. He does not make up for his lack of book smarts by any common sense. So far, he has managed to get by due to sheer brawn and laughter, but the day was bound to come when he would no longer be able to joke his way out of a nasty situation.
The summer before his fifth year, multiple instances challenged his ability to stay alive.
The first: cleaning.
Cyrus’s aunt made him get a summer job in order to gain a ‘work ethic’, whatever that was. Cyrus personally didn’t think he needed a job─after all, his parents and aunt were filthy rich. Nonetheless, his aunt deemed work ‘good for him’, so he looked at open positions. One was a janitorial position at a hotel, and he decided he might as well apply. He did not expect to be hired, but two weeks later, he received an email telling him he’d gotten the job.
Although Cyrus was trained on what every chemical did, he had never been the smartest. He had never had the greatest memory. He soon forgot which unlabelled bottle had what, so he tried to stick to the labelled bottles. However, when a sink didn’t clean itself fast enough, Cyrus glanced down at his cart full of soaps. He thought about every bottle and noted that vinegar could disinfect counters and bleach could whiten them, so if he mixed them together, the sink would be disinfected and whitened. His supervisors would be so proud!
He put the stopper in the sink and mixed the chemicals. His gloves were on, so he assumed there would be no problem. However, soon after he began to mix the chemicals, he started coughing and found it increasingly difficult to breathe. He stumbled around the bathroom for a bit, wheezing, before he remembered he had a phone (perks of being a no-maj born!) and quickly dialled his boss’s number as he fumbled his way out of the bathroom.
His boss dialled 911, and Cyrus didn’t remember much after that. He woke up in the hospital and was informed that his very not clever mixture had created chlorine gas, which was toxic to breathe in. The hotel had needed the gas removed from the floor he’d been on, and Cyrus’s clothes were no longer any good. His hospital gown wasn’t nearly as cool as his duck-themed T-shirt.
He was promptly fired from his job after that ordeal.
The second test of Cyrus’s will to live? Driving.
Since Cyrus had been sixteen for a while, his aunt decided it was high time he learned how to drive. His aunt took him up to Lake Placid, where she had a vacation home, and began to teach him how cars worked. One day, she was visiting some of her friends, and Cyrus thought it would be nice of him to bring the car to pick her up. He was pretty sure he had done everything right─the car was on, the mirrors were all in the right places, his seatbelt was on… But the car wouldn’t move. The garage door was still shut because he didn’t know where his aunt put the garage door opener.
He began to panic, looking through the glove box and the other compartments before realising that he had no idea at all where the opener was. And when he pressed the gas, the car still wouldn’t move.
Once again, he remembered he had his phone, and he called his aunt to ask, but his vision wavered, and he passed out.
Luckily, his aunt had gotten the garage door open, and she had called 911. He woke up at Adirondack Medical Center with an oxygen mask over his face. The doctors informed him that he had given himself carbon monoxide poisoning, and his aunt tiredly told him he had forgotten to take off the parking brake. The garage door opener had been on the kitchen counter this entire time.
Cyrus was okay, though, if not a bit shaken up by the entire ordeal. His body didn’t feel as weak as he had expected it to. In fact, a few weeks later, he swallowed mouthwash─completely by accident, he would tell his aunt, since he had genuinely forgotten that Listerine was not meant to be swallowed. She had stared at him in complete and utter exasperation before asking if she should call the Poison Control hotline. Cyrus thought about it, and although he knew he was probably making a mistake, he shook his head. He had swallowed a fair amount of mouthwash, but he felt fine.
Maybe, he thought, the poison caused by the chlorine gas and the carbon monoxide had hardened his body against the future clumsiness that would almost certainly come someday.[/reducio]
[b]Year 6:[/b] Spell Spread
[reducio]Cyrus had always had a bit of a dramatic flair. This was exemplified by his choice in clothes (duck-themed everything, often thousands of dollars worth) and his style of speech. However, Cyrus wanted to channel this into his magic as well.
He was not the best spellcaster. Even simple spells, like [i]Lumos[/i], tended to give him grief. But Cyrus wasn’t popular amongst his peers, and he wanted to defend himself if stolen rude glances and muttered [i]’Mudblood’[/i]s turned to something more serious.
Thus, Cyrus practised. He practised more than he thought he was able to, finally becoming familiar with the feeling of his wand in his hand. He read book after book until he thought maybe he could feel his brain cells multiplying─or perhaps that was just him being tired because it was three in the morning. He studied spell movements until his [i]Lumos[/i] was perfect most of the time. He practised evasive footwork, and sometimes he wished he had more friends who could throw things at him so he could evade even better.
His movements became precise, no longer a jumble of jittery motion but instead a dance-like agglomeration of knowledge. Cyrus was an actor, and his spellbooks made up his stage. He found himself imagining he was a conductor, waving his wand in precise movements to command an army of musicians, and that was when the thought came to him: he could [i]be[/i] an army.
Cyrus’s studies multiplied. Instead of learning about [i]how[/i] spells were performed, he learned about [i]why[/i] they were performed the way they were. Magic was an art, he realised, a type of performance not unlike singing or acting. And actors could play multiple parts. He read about spell theory and how one could focus one’s magic into a single spell, how spells would differ in their outcome depending on the person and their preferred style of casting despite ultimately being the same spell doing the same thing.
He also thought a lot. He thought about what one of the old Hogwarts professors had [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=8092#p123749]once told him[/url]: ‘Making more questions is a good thing, not a bad thing.’
He had lots of questions about magic. Where did it all come from? His parents didn’t have magic, and he wasn’t blood related to his aunt, so why did he? His uncle, also a no-Maj, was dead now, so he couldn’t ask his uncle about what coincidence might have made him have magic.
It didn’t matter now. He knew he had magic, and he hadn’t embraced it as much as he wished he had in retrospect. Cyrus began to attend classes in earnest, to write down notes on even the most arbitrary of things. He would be a proper wizard.
Gradually, his spells grew stronger. He learned how to channel his emotions into his spellcasting, yet keep them in check so he remained in control. He poured his grief over his uncle’s death, his repressed anger at his parents and his appreciation for his aunt into his spellcasting.
And then there was the real test. Cyrus had set up two dummies to practise on, and so far, his spells had only been able to hit one. His accuracy was fairly decent, and his spells packed a punch. But his ability to cast spells was never consistent. Cyrus hoped that after all of his studies, this might be better, so he thought long and hard and decided on a spell he’d known for a long time─flipendo.
Cyrus held out his wand and focused. He imagined his uncle alive and well, smiling and telling him he was proud. He imagined his aunt nodding at how he had grown. He imagined his parents happy with his existence, willing to look away from their work. He imagined his spell, fuelled by his heart, knocking both of the dummies over.
Then he waved his wand and said the word. [i][b]’Flipendo.’[/b][/i]
It took a moment, as if his magic were hesitating, and Cyrus thought for a second that all of his studying had been for nothing. But he watched with wide eyes, willing to have patience, and he heard a satisfying [i]plonk[/i] as the dummies fell to the ground.[/reducio]
[b]Year 7:[/b] Wandmaker ─ 34 cm, Dogwood with Phoenix Feather core, whippy
[reducio]Cyrus had, not once in his life, been the most responsible young man. Many times, he had lost his wand, and he often fidgeted with it when he got restless. Sometimes, he left it in his pocket and nearly snapped it.
It seemed that luck would not always be on his side, because, one fateful day in the summer of 2024, Cyrus had gone to a bonfire party with his aunt, and his wand had mysteriously ended up as some kindling. He had searched for it only to realise it was on fire by the time it was too late. He was inconsolable for days, sobbing himself to sleep. What type of wizard was he without a wand?
His Aunt Teresa grew tired of having a panicked seventeen-year-old in her house, so she told him to pack up for London. They were going to go to Ollivanders.
[b]'I got my wand from Ollivanders back in the day, and it hasn't broken. If there's a wand you won't break, it'll be from there,'[/b] she had said.
He was a sleep-deprived boy when they arrived in Diagon Alley by floo the next morning, and when his aunt took him to Ollivanders for a ‘wand he would not dare to lose’, he groggily followed behind her. They entered the wand shop, and Cyrus found that he dwarfed many younger children, most of whom were probably around eleven. He waved at a few children, the fact that he was around people (and perhaps the mug of tea in his left hand) helping to wake him up. He apparently did not seem so harmless, as he spooked one boy who was trying out what had to be his hundredth wand.
When it was his turn, he stood idly as his wand arm was measured. He began trying to make small talk with Ollivander ─ he did, in fact, ask how the weather was ─ before his aunt silenced him with a well-timed side-eye.
[b]‘Try this,’[/b] said Ollivander, handing the teenager a box. [b]‘Fourteen centimetres, unyielding, rosewood with dragon heartstring.’[/b]
The words meant little to the exhausted teenager. The American opened the box and waved the wand inside. Nothing of note occurred, but Ollivander shook his head. [b]‘Absolutely not,’[/b] he said, and he handed Cyrus a different box. [b]‘Twenty-four centimetres, reasonably supple, larch wood with unicorn hair.’[/b] He watched as the boy picked up the wand. [b]‘Larch wood prefers wizards who lack confidence.’[/b]
Cyrus dramatically waved the wand. [b]‘I think I’m pretty confident, Mr Ollivander,’[/b] he said when the wand felt wrong in his hand. He couldn’t place the feeling, but something about it just wasn’t right. He waved it again and heard a small bang, although if that had resulted from his efforts, he wasn’t sure.
[b]‘Right, of course. Then it might be this.’[/b] Ollivander unboxed a rather long, bendy wand and handed the stick to Cyrus. The American gingerly took it. [b]‘Thirty-four centimetres, whippy, dogwood with phoenix feather.’[/b] The wandmaker smiled at Cyrus. [b]‘The phoenix feather tends to choose particularly stubborn and enduring wizards, something you showed me when you wanted to keep searching for the perfect wand.’[/b] He glanced at Teresa.[b] ‘Your being here today highlights your tenacity.’ [/b]
Cyrus took a moment to think about the older man’s words, and for once, he wished he could articulate a more eloquent response. All he managed to say was a quietly choked,[b] ‘Huh.’[/b]
The more he thought about it, the more that part made sense. Although he didn’t always seem like a tenacious individual, he had pushed himself very far. He had learned how to split spells on his own, staying up night after night to exercise both his body and mind in pursuit of his goal. And he had done it ─ his tunnel vision had paid off. It had taken him until his sixth year to properly join Ilvermorny’s duelling team ─ but he had done it.
He definitely was more stubborn than he let on.
He waved the wand, and, inspired, he took a big step and opted to give his wandwork a small flourish. He remembered his assertion that magic was really just art, and now he was dancing. The wand whistled as he moved, making music to his choreography. He spun the wand over his knuckles, caught it between his thumb and forefinger, and took a bow.
[b]‘Dogwood was definitely the right wood,’[/b] said Ollivander drily, a smile on his lips.
[b]‘What does that mean?’[/b] Cyrus asked, setting the wand back in its box. He, too, was smiling.
[b]‘Dogwood was loud ─ I’m certain you heard it, no?’[/b]
[b]‘Ohh.’[/b] Cyrus’s grin widened. [b]‘So my wand will make noise!?’[/b] He paused, his hands flapping at his sides. He had called it his. He didn’t do that aloud, not ever. He glanced at the stick in the box ─ his partner. His partner. His wand.
[b]‘I love noise,’[/b] Cyrus said, a bit more softly. [b]‘I’ll keep it in good company, I promise. I’ll even sing to it.’[/b] He leaned forward and began a rather awful humming rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
While he was occupied, his aunt took out her money and paid Ollivander. She turned to Cyrus and patted him on the shoulder before closing the wand’s box. [b]‘Happy early birthday, Cyrus. Now don’t break this one.’[/b]
Why does this wand fit Cyrus?
[reducio]Dogwood (54/50): Cyrus is loud. He has always been loud with a flair for the dramatic. He enjoys creative efforts, such as building, dancing and arts and crafts, and he also has a strong interest in fashion. His outfits stand out, making them aesthetically 'loud', and he has an affinity for anything colourful, loud or dramatic.
Phoenix feather (69/50): Cyrus is enduring. He is mostly friendless, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing trying to make friends. Even though he has never been the greatest at his schoolwork, he perseveres until he succeeds in his endeavours. Furthermore, he is also rather stubborn. Although he doesn't share his opinions much, he is strong in his moral compass, and he is not afraid to fight for what he believes in.
Length (34 cm) (67/50): A 34cm/13.39in wand is a long one, and Cyrus is tall. However, he is also 'big' in personality. He finds it very difficult to be quiet, and his presence often makes itself known. He is dramatic and views magic as a theatrical art, which is reflected in the manner of his spellcasting. He takes wide swishes and often ends each spell, once cast, with a spin.
Flexibility (Whippy) (73/50): Cyrus is adaptable and loves trying new things ─ sometimes to a fault. He rapidly switches back and forth between ideas, avoiding commitment to anything for too long, and he is accepting of most things. He accepted that there was a magical world, and he did so without dwelling on it too much, quickly disregarding the newness of it in favour of involving himself in this new world as much as he could.[/reducio][/reducio]Thank you so much!
koko riddle · 'pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.'
'it always starts and ends with birds.' · cyrus darsel
Ilvermorny NPC
Name: Cursa McCoire
School: the Best School! Ilvermorny
Year: fourth
Status: Pureblood obviously
Appearance: Cursa is a tall boy, neither terribly muscular nor overly skinny. His shock of red hair and pale grey eyes belie his Irish and Scottish ancestry. He favours a kind of straggly appearance and can most often be found wearing somewhat tatty and faded jeans and a white tee shirt often with a plaid overshirt when it's cool out. He like Doc Martens or any kind of heavy boot, and he unceremoniously jams his wand into his left front pocket.
Personality: Cursa is a Pureblood and has been brought up to consider Mudbloods a tolerable appendage to the wizarding world. He neither loves nor despises them, but would prefer as little contact with them as possible. Muggles? Don't even get him started on Muggles! He once saw an image of the British Ministry of Magic during the Second Wizarding War. You know, that famous one with the Purebloods standing upon all the magical creatures and muggles underfoot? Yeah. Cursa liked that image.
The only thing worse than Muggles in Cursa's opinion are werewolves. Those should be kept in kennels along with the other beasts and chattels.
Apart from a healthy sense of Pureblood superiority, Cursa is a fairly normal Canadian-American lad whose first loves are duelling and Wyrd Sisters. He likes to read fantasy, play quodpot, but much prefers trick skatebrooming.
History: Cursa is indeed related to Colin McCoire. To be precise, they are distant cousins, separated by several generations on either side of the Atlantic. The first McCoires are known to have arrived in North America in the 1620s, though Cursa's line left Ireland in the late 1700s forming a new scion of that family that decided to cross over the Western Ocean during the turbulent period of American history revolving around some interminable Muggle war or other. Cursa's McCoires can be found most often in Quebec, New York, and New England.
His family specifically was based in Saint Anicet, a little town in Quebec, until they moved across the border in the middle 1800s, settling in the North Country of New York. Cursa's mother is a dedicated tutor, specialising in arithmancy, numerology and other mathematical disciplines. Don't let the academic credentials fool you! She can plink a beer can off a tree trunk at three hundred yards, just using her wand and some geometry! Her name is Annabeth Learn-Wisdom Shephard. Cursa's dad is an auror. He travels a bit, often to Britain. His name is Saggitarius McCoire. Both are Purebloods and naturally seek to uphold the best of American magical traditions in their children. Perhaps in contradistinction to the Pureblood ideals of their British counterparts, the American McCoires are a little more egalitarian in their prejudices: all non-Purebloods are considered as being broadly on the same footing as themselves. Only quite a bit lower.
Cursa's Scottish cousins, Angus & Alex, stay with his family as they attend Ilvermorny rather than Hogwarts. It is from these two that Cursa has learned quite a bit about his Scottish cousins, in particular a certain pair of prats named Colin and Liam. Cursa has a variety of older siblings, now done with school, and twin brothers two years younger. These latter are Castor and Pollux. Together, the three brothers and their cousins Alex and Angus, cause quite the stir in Ilvermorny!
First Magic: Cursa's first magic was, to put it mildly, almost unbearably ordinary. Castor and Pollux were just turning three, while five year old Cursa had to sit by whilst the twins revelled in entirely too much fuss being made by family and friends. They were just three! In the grand scheme of Cursa's worldview, they were just babies! Not even worth playing with properly! Even their Auntie Isobel from Scotland couldn't help but coo and babble along with the snot nosed little blighters!
Naturally, it became all to much for Cursa, who began to cry and pout! His oldest sister, Mary, told him to shut it as it was the little ones' birthday and not his. Of course, this did nothing but make Cursa's temper all the worse! He took a deep breath in preparation to let out the screech of the century! He opened his mouth and --- out popped a little purple bubble! There was no screech! Just a shimmering purple bubble that hovered in the air between him and Mary.
She called over for mum and dad to take a look at the purple bubble. Cursa was probably the most shocked of all, and he forgot all about his screeching tantrum. Especially when dad pronounced proudly that it was a very good purple bubble indeed! He ruffled his son's red hair, saying: "Well Cursa, you're a wizard now!"
Is your character a Quidditch player? YES. (Chaser.)
Stats: Sta: 7 | Eva: 10 | Str: 0 | Wis: 10 | Arc: 10 | Acc: 13
Special Race/Ability: None.
Abilities: TBD
STATUS: Approved, Farron, Oct 18th, 2024
Keep your mind in hell; and don't despair.
Cursa McCoire
Rigel McCoire
Andrew Vance
Ilvermorny NPC
iNPC update
NPC Name: Jayden Holt
Link: Here
Year: 5 (I noticed that the roster here says 6th year?)
Stats: +5 Stamina
Extracurricular: Duelist
Content Changes: I would like to redo the reason for Jayden's absence from Ilvermorny during my inactivity (if possible, staff could strikethrough the old "iNPC reason" in my Advancement app here and add on this update). As for the old reason, the "disappearance" of Jayden's parents involved a plot with a player who has since been banned from the site. Nothing about the disappearance been roleplayed ICly, so here's some much-needed clarification about the whole Auror parents thing:
Backstory/history clarification:
iNPC reason for advancement:
Trunk Coding:
NPC Name: Jayden Holt
Link: Here
Year: 5 (I noticed that the roster here says 6th year?)
Stats: +5 Stamina
Old stats: Stamina (5), Evasion (10), Strength (4), Wisdom (10), Arcane Power (11), Accuracy (10)
New stats: Stamina (10), Evasion (10), Strength (4), Wisdom (10), Arcane Power (11), Accuracy (10)
Abilities: N/ANew stats: Stamina (10), Evasion (10), Strength (4), Wisdom (10), Arcane Power (11), Accuracy (10)
Extracurricular: Duelist
Content Changes: I would like to redo the reason for Jayden's absence from Ilvermorny during my inactivity (if possible, staff could strikethrough the old "iNPC reason" in my Advancement app here and add on this update). As for the old reason, the "disappearance" of Jayden's parents involved a plot with a player who has since been banned from the site. Nothing about the disappearance been roleplayed ICly, so here's some much-needed clarification about the whole Auror parents thing:
Backstory/history clarification:
Jayden's parents are Aurors, their work is quite dangerous and unpredictable, and for the safety of their children (Jayden and her little brother, Forrest), they try to keep their Auror work a secret from their children. Prior to Jayden's birth, her parents lived in New York, near MACUSA headquarters, before moving to Sun Wolf Village, a remote wizarding settlement in Wyoming, in preference of raising their children away from modern society. Prior to moving to Wyoming, her parents officially resigned from their Auror positions. For a time, her parents lived as farmworkers at Sun Wolf Village, shutting off contact with relatives back East, in conformance to the Village's isolationist ways.
Old contacts from MACUSA were a steady pressure, trying to persuade Jayden's parents into working as Aurors again, due to unexpected circumstances in the field. As Jayden neared her 11th birthday, her parents gave in to accepting their former positions as Aurors, taking their return to New York as an opportunity for their children to finally meet and bond with relatives back East. Shortly after Jayden's 11th birthday, her parents moved back to New York, taking their children with them to live with their paternal grandparents on Roosevelt Island.
Prior to arriving in New York, Jayden had not met a single relative of her parents' immediate families. She believed that her parents were farmworkers, and that the trip to New York was simply for a family reunion. Days passed in New York until her parents told her the truth, that they were Aurors, and that her grandparents would be looking after her and Forrest, from now on.
Under her grandparents' roof, Jayden would receive her education at Ilvermorny, while her parents spent nearly all their time away as Aurors.
iNPC reason for advancement:
Jayden disliked Ilvermorny and the rigid structure of conventional school. She missed the Village in Wyoming, visiting every summer. When she turned 15, her parents allowed her to drop out of Ilvermorny and for her and Forrest to move back to Sun Wolf Village to live there with family friends. Jayden dropped out during the 2021-2022 school year, a 4th Year.
The Village had a far more relaxed approach to magical homeschooling. Jayden neglected her academics in favor of farmwork and playing outdoors, remaining at 4th Year level.
In May 2023, Jayden's parents were killed in their line of duty as Aurors. The details of their death, classified and omitted from Jayden's knowledge. She and her brother were immediately collected to attend their parents' funeral… and a court hearing, granting her paternal grandparents custody over her and Forrest. While 16-year old Jayden was given the choice by her grandparents, to stay at the Village and even hand custody of her over to family friends she had been living with, 8-year old Forrest was not. Unwilling to be separated from her brother, Jayden accepted her grandparents' custody, and returned to New York to live with them.
Rather than thrust her back into the school she so vehemently disliked, Jayden's grandparents believed a more personalized curriculum through magical homeschooling was needed, allowing Jayden space and time to grieve her parents and bond with her brother. With the aid of private tutors over the 2023-2024 school year, Jayden progressed to 5th Year, and to the surprise of her grandparents, expressed her desire to return to Ilvermorny for the 2024-2025 school year.
Hungry for vengeance and answers about her parents' deaths, Jayden is determined to follow in her parents' footsteps, to become an Auror and investigate their deaths.
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[quote]Extracurricular ✶ [b]Duelist[/b][/quote]
[quote]Stamina [b]10[/b] ⟡ Evasion [b]10[/b] ⟡ Strength [b]4[/b] ⟡ Wisdom [b]10[/b] ⟡ Arcane Power [b]11[/b] ⟡ Accuracy [b]10[/b][/quote][/center]
[quote]Year 1 ❖ [b]Perfectionist[/b]
[reducio]It all started with upbringing, and perhaps ran a little in the genes as well. Nature or nurture, Jayden had been imprinted with ideals of perfectionism since she was a toddler. Not so much by her own parents, but from relatives and extended members of the Holt and Speirs clans - particularly those of elite and upper-class circles - who saw it best to educate Jayden in all refined, classy, and “respectable” aspects of pure-blood wizarding society. Table etiquette, ballroom dancing, attire, and tactfulness of speech… Not a step, frill, or hair out of place. With these rigorous lessons came the instillation of self-discipline, as well as the more inspiring notion that one could become anything so long as they set their mind to it. Practice did make perfect, after all.
Her parents, while more lenient and less demanding of what their daughter ought to pursue for her future, never failed to stress the importance a clean room (for “A clear space is a clear mind”, and the road to perfectionism first began with tidying up one’s quarters), along with high grades - once Jayden arrived at Ilvermorny - for nothing short of excellence would guarantee to unlock as many doors as possible for Jayden’s future, even if she never opened any of them, at least the opportunities would always be there for her to consider later on.
Unfortunately, the boring and monotonous task of reading and writing - the basis upon which academic success was hinged - did not come so easily enticing. Jayden was a stubborn physical learner, to no fault of her own genetics. Yet she was determined to succeed, and to make her parents proud. Through many tutors (some begged for, others bribed for), and though it often took twice as long for her to absorb words on paper, Jayden forced herself to “enjoy” studying and achieve high marks. Being a perfectionist in the academic sense did not come natural at first, but through hard work and self-discipline, Jayden adopted the mentality and accomplished that which she set her goals on. And with her newfound reputation to keep as being a “smart” student, all the more pushed Jayden to reach the top of her class.
Hands-on activity, however, was a different story. Books could only achieve so much, and luckily were not so important in the long run, compared to one’s skill with a wand.
[i]That[/i] was where Jayden’s perfectionism really came into play.
[quote][center][b]Word Count:[/b] 408[/center][/quote][/reducio]Year 2 ❖ [b]Perfectionist 2[/b]
[reducio]Feeling the instant spark of connection flow through her from her wand, was a moment long dreamed of by Jayden, the day she arrived at Ilvermorny at the start of her first year. All Jayden wanted to do at school was practice spells, excelling at Charms and DADA right off the bat, as far as the actual performance of spells was concerned. While Jayden only devoted enough time to books in order to “get by” with acing the next assignment, pop-quiz or test, words on paper hardly registered in her mind long-term, not without some physical accompaniment to sear it into memory. She was a true tactile learner, enrapt by the grandeur of spellcasting. Books were all fluff. Spells were real substance, not only in which all the fun was to be had, but the only thing one could depend on to save their life when facing an enemy. Nothing excited Jayden more than to put her spell work to the test, to hone her skill with the wand and build up practical experience. Books, she could force herself to endure, but spellcasting was where Jayden’s zeal for learning truly lied.
Dueling was to prepare her for those worst case scenarios, an activity that her parents strongly encouraged, and which Jayden felt immediately drawn to participate in. No surprise, considering both of her parents and a majority of the Holt and Speirs clans were also Wampuses, many of them pursuing Auror careers in light of their potential. Living up to the “warrior” stereotype of her House, Jayden found thrill in the Dueling arena and dedicated herself to the sport. Whenever she wasn’t occupied with schoolwork, Jayden would train in the Dueling ring every chance she got. Winning was always the goal. Still, it was only practice, no matter how heated and competitive the matches got. Jayden wasn’t a sore loser, nor did she boast about her victories. Rather, she viewed Dueling as a chance to teach and to learn from others. If she failed a match, Jayden bore no shame in asking the winner for lessons on their strategy. Regardless of House or blood status, wizardkind was a team (according to the “traitorous” beliefs of her parents). In fairness of teamwork, Jayden wouldn’t withhold from sharing her own Dueling techniques with her competitors as well, despite being aware of every Duelist’s underlying motive to one day use an opponents’ techniques against them. All the more, this prompted Jayden to stay on top of her game, to perfect every spell and constantly strive for better, keeping one step ahead of her opponents.
[quote][center][b]Word Count:[/b] 431[center][/quote][/reducio]Year 3 ❖ [b]Fearless[/b]
[reducio]Fear of heights was never an obstacle for Jayden, growing up in the Rocky Mountains in Wyoming. Part of her family’s house was built along the side of a steep mountain cliff. Poking her head perilously out of a window or over a balcony, Jayden could stare down from the miles-long sheer drop, admiring the beauty of the valley below, without feeling a heart drop in her chest. Not as dangerous as riding a creature with a mind of its own, from the same height in mid-air. Jayden was on the back of a hippogriff before she could walk, wrapped in the protective arm of her father for her first joyride through the sky. Freedom and bliss. The caress of wind brought smiles and giggles to the infant’s face, unfazed by the reality of falling distance below her. Riding hippogriffs and winged horses proved to be Jayden’s introductory course in mounting a broom for the first time at Ilvermorny, which she adjusted fairly quickly to. At least brooms didn’t have [i]half[/i] so much a mind of their own. Aside from Charms and DADA, Flying became second nature to her, though Quidditch didn’t call so much to her competitive interests than Dueling.
There was no shortage of adventures and dangers to be found in the remote wilderness surrounding the Holts’ homestead. Both magical and non-magical alike lurked in the woods, requiring no small amount of bravery for Jayden to step in and protect her loved ones from an attacker. From an early age, Jayden learned to mask her fear in tending to the family’s menagerie of magical creatures. Animals often reflected a person’s emotions, and a calm and quiet mind was necessary to be able to tame and handle most of them. Hippogriffs and winged horses of note.
It wasn’t until she stepped foot in the Dueling ring that Jayden really learned how to [i]control[/i] her fear. Where fortitude and mental strength was put to the test, in a battle of wands. Stage fright was easier to overcome than her opponents, who came in all walks of life (some more naturally [i]intimidating[/i] than others). Over time, Jayden learned to hone her focus and sharpen her concentration to a spear, in order to pierce the veil of illusion of fear intended to distract her. Even if it was “only a game”, Dueling was preparation for the real-world thing. Jayden wouldn’t allow any fear to get the best of her, in learning to stand strong on her own.
[quote][center][b]Word Count:[/b] 415[/center][/quote][/reducio]Year 4 ❖ [b]Blindvision[/b]
[reducio][i][b]"Yeah, right,"[/b] Jayden scoffed, stuffing her precious few belongings in the leather drawstring bag to be slung over her shoulder in the morning when she left her grandparents' New York apartment for the summer in Wyoming. At the end of her first year, she had already made a friend and house guest of Hadrian Zuheir, whose ego had bluffed the skills and moxie to "vacation" with her, to which she sneered. [b]"You wouldn't last a day without a toilet and a mirror. [i]And[/i] a wand."[/b][/i]
It was a challenge she led by example, wand forgotten within the folds of her deerskin dress as she stood at the threshold of the secret entryway, the dim interior light of the cabin against her back, lapping at the wall of abyss before her.
[b]"Scared of a little dark?"[/b] Pearly whites flashed, detecting a twinge of apprehension from Hadrian beside her. Moccasins padded their way silently as she stepped forward, enveloping her in shadow. [b]"Need me to hold your hand?"[/b] Her chuckle echoed, transitioning from wood to stone. [b]"[i]Relax.[/i]"[/b] She teased, body disconnected, separated by a veil of pitch black. [b]"It's only one way, you know."[/b]
If Hadrian thought it couldn't get any worse, being in a dingy old cabin, [i]boy[/i] had he been in for a shock when he realized that [i]wasn't[/i] where he'd be sleeping tonight.
[i][b]"Don't be a wimp,"[/b] Mr. Zuheir stated flatly, before taking the portkey himself to the end destination. Thus marked the start of "boot camp" for his eldest son.
Twenty miles was a hop, skip, and a jump away – provided Hadrian's whining and heavy feet didn't give her a migraine and slow them down.[/i]
[b]"Shut up, keep up, or I'll leave you!"[/b] She growled irritably.
Stripped of his own wand, at the dictation of his father, Hadrian didn't really have a choice but to follow, unless if he wanted to [i]permanently[/i] stay entombed in here.
She knew the main highways like the back of her hand, those tunnels that made up the Village labyrinth. Calling the whole thing a "house" was an understatement, though the complex of caves and cabins was communally inhabited and Jayden referred to it all ambiguously as such. Since toddlerhood, her hands and feet had felt over every pebble and crevice in the tunnel that connected her family's cabin to the Village proper, until she no longer relied on torchlight to navigate each bend, legs measuring out each pace with a preprogrammed sense of direction, and fingertips brushing the air and stone where instinct wavered, after a whole school year since she last trod this path.
Her eyes adjusted swiftly to the familiar dark she had been accustomed to since her youth, imprinted by the Village. Owing to her Fearless nature, she and other children had made a perilous game of who could venture the farthest from the beaten paths, deeper into the belly of the mountain, where ghost stories abounded of those who had wandered off and disappeared, never to be seen again. Magic was not a crutch for the Villagers to lean on at the slightest discomfort. Neither was fire, for sight. Mother Nature knew best, as it had taught her ancestors to embrace the elements around them. Darkness included. Whether it be under a moonlit sky or in the shadowy depths of a cavern, Darkness was not something Jayden craved, but a force she learned to work with, to respect, to accept, and to be prepared for.
Darkness taught her to be [i]calm[/i], first of all. To be stripped of sight, panic and irrational fear of the unknown lurking within the shadows were the first to sink in, paralyze and disorient a victim, and the first she learned to gain control of. Once fear of the dark was conquered, a clear mind could focus on honing the other senses. Not just the immediate hearing, smell and touch, for even those could be deceiving. Whether she be blinded by rain, fog, snow, mud, or underwater depths, [i]trust your instincts[/i] was the most difficult to master, bolstered by a heightened awareness to her surroundings, sharpening a photographic memory to her terrain and whereabouts, so in the blink of an eye, whenever the light switched off or weather shifted, she would be able to map her way forward or retrace her steps. Or at least not have a mental breakdown in the middle of wherever she was.
A skill which followed her to the New York City nightlife, and the Dueling arena beyond…
[i]Darkness.[/i] The great even playing field. For the world would not be so full of greed in lust for the visual, if everyone were blind. She and Hadrian were simply two lonely souls in the void as she kept up a steady pace, Hadrian calling out every minute or so to complain, if not to keep track of where she was in front of him.
Until the faint orange glow of torchlight appeared over the slope; the ache in her feet nothing compared to her relief that they had made it to the Village just in time for supper.
[b]"We're here,"[/b] she breathed.
She couldn't wait to show Hadrian the sunrise view from the summits in the morning. If she could drag him out of bed, that was.
[quote][center][b]Word Count:[/b] 878[/center][/quote][/reducio][/quote]STATUS: Owled, Viktoria 27/10
STATUS: Approved, Aiko, October 27, 2024