DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities

Link to your encyclopedia thread: Kylie Smith
Name of Ability or Race that you Are Applying for: Part-Veela

I know that I'm a pretty girl, since I'm a baby everybody that I meet said to me or to my parents that I'm pretty, beautiful… So imagine when I grew up, with teenager forms what people told me. I do not boast much because most people I know are no-mage but my grand-mother, the mother of my dad, is a pure blood Veela. She has a very moon light skin, white blond hair blue eyes so clear that they look transparent and she's so beautiful ! My father is an half-veela, he was so irresistible that my mom leave Cheltenham in England to go with my father to Brooklyn even if she only know him for a few days. The same for my step-mother Addison when she meet him.My sister and I are a quarter Veela. I know that Veela have originaly blond haire and I have Brown hair but dad's grand-ma, Gabriella, is from Brazil and even if her husband Chuck Smith was American she raised her children in Brazil before going to the United States when my grandfather was 13 years old. So I'm a part Veela with American, Brazilian, Russian and English origin. I would not say that I have an infallible charm but I found myself very beautiful even if I don't really make importance of the beauty, it helped me a lot during some fights that I had with guys for various reasons and sometimes even just for the sake of beat. I didn't need to distract them but only to approach them and they were a little strange, like hypnotized by me, I can make them do anything I want if I wante it. It was weird at first because no one in my family told me about it, but when I was 9, my grandmother told me about it. At first I didn't believe her, I thought she was joking, but no, she was not joking, she's really a veela, my father a half-veela and my sister and I are quarter veela. I don't have the typical veela hair but the lips yeah, I have naturaly red tint lips and I'm very temperamental, when someone annoys me I'll fight practically immediatly because I go into a mad anger and I need to let off steam, fight, solve my problems like that. That's why me and my mom weren't often agree, because I used it as soon as I could to get everything I wanted, I'm pretty capricious it's true I do not hide it. And for my mom, it's to easy to use it like that for when I wanted Something. She was not jealous, she just does not like the fact that just with a simple presence you can get what you want even if it's thanks to that power that she met my father and that my sister and I was born. So my grandmother who was a veela married a Brazilian that she meet during her travel in the USA because she's Russian.

Word Count: 506

Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
Stamina: 4
Evasion: 6
Strength: 9
Wisdom: 3
Arcane Power: 4
Accuracy: 4

Status: on hold (owled)

LINK

Race: Dhampir

Isaac knew what he was, and he knew what it made him.

Dhampir.

Sometimes, the word felt suffocating, snuffing out everything that made him him until he was just a shell and a label. A tragic story of a forbidden love between a vampire father killed by illegal vampire hunters and witch for a mother (it’s never the other way around for Dhampirs. Female vampires can’t get pregnant). He never knew how he should feel about what he was. He’s always so confused.

He had pale skin, almost white that would look sickly on anyone but him, and he was skinny. Mostly, he thought it was amplified more because he was what his community considered a vegetarian. He never fed off live humans. He got blood bags from the deceased, or from blood donations, and it was enough to fill his hunger. He used to get extremely hungry during family reunions, and he hated every one he went to.  That was, until they found him covered in blood with the neighbors cat in his mouth. He never had to go to another one after that.

His mom and him were outcasted, broken off from the rest of the family. They could never accept the fact that his mom had a child with a vampire, and for some reason, Isaac always felt bad about it. Like it was his fault. Isaac didn’t want that for his mom. He loved her more than anything, even if she wasn’t always around, and he would never forgive her family for throwing her out.

He and his mom lived in a small house on top of a hill in a wizarding neighborhood. Isaac’s mom told him that the neighbors  would be accepting of him as long as they explained it, but he never believed it. He isolated himself and never talked to any kids who came by. He never let anyone know what he was.

Isaac had grown to be independent growing up where he did. With his mom working most of the time and him never going out, he learned to care for himself. He learned to cook himself meals, and he learned to clean the house. He learned everything he needed to live comfortably in a house where no one was ever home.

Isaac was hoping to find a community of others when he went to Hogwarts. Either no one else is open about being a Dhampir (or he just hasn’t found them yet), or there just were none. Isaac didn’t know what he would do if he never found another like him. The isolation of his childhood and the absolute hope he was pinning on Hogwarts having more people like him, ending up not finding anyone would crush him.

So Isaac just kept hoping. No matter what he did, he clung to have any sort of control. He played with matches, and he knew how dangerous it was, especially to people like him. He could light up as easily as paper.

But he kept in control.

Word Count: 505

TRUNK

Stamina- 8

Evasion- 4

Strength- 2

Wisdom- 5

Arcane Power- 4

Accuracy- 7

Status: approved

Link to my Encyclopedia: Oh-What do we have here?
Name of Ability or Race: Fearless
Description:

A Dublin native since birth, Jack spent most of his days out in the streets. He was one with the streets, and a rough and tumble kid to bat. One of his earliest memories was of the time he had decided that he wanted to see from the top of his parent's bar. The bar was an old two-story brick-built building that was rather homely, but well-aged and somewhat run down. In the back alley behind the bar, bricks jutted out from the wall. They were perfect stepping stones for a brave child. What child didn't want to see their home city from a different vantage? So on one faithful day, the five-year-old jack had decided to climb to the roof. Being naturally athletic as he was the start of the climb was easy as one-two-three. Several minutes passed as he climbed. Nearly three-quarters of the way to the top of the building, but the young Jack had been overly confident. He had failed to notice that the crumbling brick he had placed his hand on was starting to give way. Either by extreme luck or good reaction time, he managed to grab hold of another protruding brick before he actually fell. He was so close to the top and his excitement outweighed his caution. It didn't just outweigh his caution. It threw caution to the wind. At last, he made it to the top of the building. The sun setting behind the skyline of Dublin would forever remain ingrained in his memory as he stood on the roof. 

Jack is a street rat to his core. The boy ran the Dublin streets with his wild group of friends. It was a daily occurrence for the boys to roughhouse and get into scrapes. However, occasionally they would find an older boy who had somehow wronged one of them. These boys were always bigger, faster, and stronger than Jack and his posse. Not once did Jack ever back down from these challenges. Sometimes he would win, but most of the time he suffered a terrible defeat. Black eyes and busted lips were never a welcome sight but ended up being rather familiar. At one point, he had his lip busted so many times that he now has a scar the peeked out from the top of his lip. Fear was never an issue for the boy. The issue was that he didn't fear, and so he never had the foresight that fear created.

Reducio

WC: 413

6-point Stat:
Stamina| 7
Evasion| 8
Strength| 6
Wisdom| 2
Arcane Power| 7
Accuracy| 5

Status: approved

Link to my Encyclopedia: My profile
Name of Ability or Race: Fearless
Description:

Chris had been brought up to be fearless for most of his life through his father and mothers guidance. They were both strict towards him in terms of parents, but loved him like any other child. It went along a basis of a quote they always used to tell him "The only thing you have to fear is fear itself" which was said by some president in the US some time ago, but he never really got the chance to ask his name. One of the ideologies was to stick up for yourself and help those who don't have the courage to do so yet, something that would come into use for most of his life.

Most of his friends looked to him as a leader, a person they could rely on in need. Everyone knew that if someone was causing trouble that involved him and his friends Chris would most certainly level it out. For example, when he was still at his muggle school in Kinsale someone from a year above tried to mess with his best friend, after a little chat the kid never bothered him again. Words was probably the best weapon he had in confrontations, but if he had to throw a few fists than so be it. As he grew up, he'd find that very little things started to strike fear into him. The thought of fear was almost at the back of his mind in any situation, in his opinion, the feeling only held you back and stopped you from reaching your full potential. 

Being less worried about things only made the activities or events more fun, as well as allow him to try more demanding things compared to the average person. He decided to work for his father on a fishing boat at the young age of 9, where he helped bring in the nets that held countless amounts of fish. It was quite a risk for a kid his age to do so, especially when they didn't know how to swim. However, his father knew Chris could look after himself in sticky situations even if he didn't know how to swim properly yet, but with a life jacket on he didn't need to worry as much.

The wizarding world was the total opposite of a muggle world, everything was different, strange and more scary than ever. Chris on the other hand was determined to take it head on, beating any obstacles that got in his way. Nothing was going to stop him from making the most of this opportunity, nothing but fear itself...

Wordcount: 448

Status: approved

Link to your encyclopedia thread: Click here
Name of Ability: Keen Eye
Describe why this fits your character:

Detail.
Pay attention to detail.
Details are the difference between good stuff and great stuff.

It was a concept that has always followed Evelynn through her growth. Her mother had been a nurse, and had aspired to greatness in her field, going so far as to complete her Master's, and later her doctoral in Nursing Administration. Time and again, she would share stories of her days nursing at the bedside where a single detail saved someone's life. Or where a single missed detail meant its loss. Thus, unsurprisingly, this -- the attention to detail -- was a value that she stressed in her daughter. And, considering the hobbies and activities to which Evelynn gravitated, it was one that she readily adopted.

Naturally, her art required great attention to detail. Every brush stroke, every colour, every slight change in pressure or tilt of a line could drastically impact the overall appearance of the finished product. A shift of as little as a millimeter could make a pretty face cross-eyed. Just a touch too much water could turn a natural gradient of blending colours into a marshy soup of grey and brown. Evelynn still made many mistakes in her artistic endeavors, but she had gained quite the eye for identifying her errors and worked diligently to improve them.

On the other hand, her Hunter jumping was arguably the more demanding of detail. Not only did it require of her a certain level of self-awareness and ability to maintain her own posture and mood throughout a course, it was a surprisingly aesthetic sport. Unlike show jumping, whereby the horse and rider are scored based on speed and faults for missing or knocking loose parts of a jump, hunter jumping was more. Judging looked at the grace and conformation of the horse and rider throughout the course, the strides, the approach. Not only that, but the presentation of the rider and horse themselves were taken into account.

Evelynn wouldn't even begin to estimate how many hours she had invested into her horse. Into brushing his dappled coat to a silver shine, or brushing and braiding his mane and tail. Saddle and bridle required regular leather treatments to maintain their subtle luster. Bits, clips, stirrups, buckles were all polished regularly until their shone. She left no detail out of place, not only for her tack and horse, but herself as well. She quickly developed that scrutinizing glance to spot even the slightest imperfection so that she could make the most of what her mother had done for her.

And this would carry forward to nearly every walk of life. From noticing the change of appearance in a peer at school. Catching the arrival of a stranger on the tram. Knowing, but choosing not to acknowledge, that the letters her mother sent out were not all meant for her grandmother. Compulsively adjusting the frames on the walls to ensure they hung perfectly straight. Pushing aside the observation that her mother had left earlier and arrived home later ever since the arrival of Evelynn's acceptance letter from Hogwarts such that they hardly had a chance to speak.

Detail was everything.

Word Count: 522

Statistics
Stamina: 5
Strength: 2
Evasion: 7
Wisdom: 10
Arcane Power: 2
Accuracy: 9

Status: approved

Erik had always been one of those sprawny and skinny looking kids and he had hated it. He had gotten in to fights more then he could count. However, those he had won he could count on one hand and that was simply not acceptable. Not to him and neither to his name. Like his father, Loddvar, would say: All a man has is his reputation, without it we are simply beasts. Erik had sullied the Tharaldson name and this was an issue that had to be adressed and simply couldn't be longer ignored. As Erik had turned twelve this year that meant he had become a man and so when the young Tharaldson had returned to Norway during the summer his father had approached him.

Today was the day he had to become a man and proof he was worthy to carry the Tharaldson name. Loddvar would train him as he was trained by his own father like their ancestors of old the vikings. This would toughen him up because a Tharaldson shouldn't only look strong. He had to be strong. So with that they had started the very same day with his training. They would start with increasing his strength. For that they would start with climbing to improve his arms and learn to carry his bodyweight and stone lifting. After that his father would bring him to a private place to follow up and teach the young heir how to use his body as a weapon and learn some boxing. So they would wrestle and fist fight with one another. Loddvar had even payed local boys to fight Erik to use these wrestlingtechniques as well as let him use his fists.

After all that they went on to improve the young Tharaldson his agility and balance for strength alone would get you only so far. This was done through diving, long-distance swimming, rowing and Erik even had to try and push his opponent under water and be able to keep his opponent there for a few seconds in the cold waters of Norway. This excessive training kept on going until it had become a routine something he put a daily effort in to. In the short months he had started training he had physically changed a lot. His muscle mass had been steadily growing and he had become more full of himself, if that was even possible at this point. His strength had significantly grown and he would maintain and improve his training. Now when he had gotten in to fights he had won more then ever before. Sure he had taken a few punches, but as he would say: You think this is bad? You should've seen the other guy. This had proven to his father that Erik was becoming the heir he wanted him to become. These were the first steps towards his great future.

Word Count: 474

Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
Stamina: 6
Evasion: 6
Strength: 8
Wisdom: 6
Arcane Power: 4
Accuracy: 5

Status: Approved (owled)

Link to your encyclopedia thread: Link

Race Applying for: Seer

Why this fits my character: 

My mother told me many stories of our ancestors, as I am a descendant of the Viking witches. Muggles often called us Völva. There were many witches of Nordic descent that had Seer abilities I was told.

I was told that before the Völvur had to go into hiding from muggles, they were well known in their communities, serving as spiritual leaders or healers through their abilities as a Seeress. During their rituals for the muggles, the Völva would "enter a trance to speak with the spirits around her" and with the information the spirits provided her, she would advise the muggles of her community. These rituals were purely for show. Once the church began to persecute witches, the Völva were less direct with their magic and hid their visions.

My mother is a Seer, the first in our family for 4 generations. Since I was little, my mother noted I had an innate ability to know things that I should not have known, and she hoped that maybe I would be gifted with the same abilities as a Seer she experienced. My father was not aware of any family that had exhibited Seer abilities, and so my mother was not sure that I would acquire both genes to gain the ability.

I was 10 when I experienced my first Seer vision, although I guess it was more of a feeling than an actual vision. My friend Octavia and I were at a park close to my house one weekend. There were a few other kids at this park with us. I became overwhelmed with a sense of unease and my head was screaming at me to leave the park. Overwhelmed with nausea, I told Octavia I did not feel well and that we needed to go home. My mother told me that night that a child was abducted from that park shortly after we left. His body was found 5 miles away dumped in a ditch. I told my mother about the sense of unease and extreme nausea that I had experienced while at the park, and my mother immediately hugged me close to her body. “You just experienced your first abilities as a Seer Tyr!” mom said elated, crying from relief that I was not the child taken that day. Since then, I have frequently experienced premonitions or overwhelming “feelings” about various things.

It is my belief that the great intuition I have as a result of being a Seer is why I have few friends. There are many people that I have met who I feel apprehension around, and having learned to trust those feelings, I avoid that individual. I have experienced premonitions about some people that have caused me great distress, and for fear of them coming to fruition while I am present, I avoid them. My mother advised me early on that many people fear the true meaning of their visions, and to avoid telling someone what I saw until I learned better control. The future is not always clear and can be prone to misinterpretation. 

Although I know that being a Seer means that I will often face difficult choices that will including interpreting each prophecy that comes to me and trying to deduce the meaning, I am excited to learn how to control my abilities and make my mother proud.

Word Count: 563

Stats: Stamina = 9; Evasion = 7; Strength = 2; Wisdom = 2; Arcane Power = 3; Accuracy = 7

STATUS: Approved

Link to Encyclopedia page:  Link
Ability applying for: Prodigal Defense Against the Dark Arts Learner
Stats: Stamina: 5 | Evasion: 6 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 7 | ArcPower: 6 | Accuracy: 6
Words: 641

Bastille learned the truth about his father when he was eight years old. The occasion was marked by the greatest tantrum of his life, and his mother would later remark that she might have been proud — it was his most impressive display of accidental magic to date — if not for the fact that she was so furious with the destruction he brought to the dining room. That sunny April morning ranks as the worst in Bastille's short life, in his opinion; how else should he name the day that he found out the great big secret Ma'am kept about his father was that he was a Death Eater?

Bastille's temper skyrocketed and his mood soured. How was he supposed to understand that Raegel had switched sides? How was he supposed to care? As far as the boy was concerned, his father had still chosen the Dark Side to begin with. There would be no need to switch sides if he'd been good to begin with, and Bastille was furious to know that the secret he'd been dying to know his whole life was so dreadfully terrible. He couldn't believe his mother had kept it from him, from his sister, couldn't believe his mother claimed to still love their father! He descended into a terror of a grouch and his control over his budding magic got worse and worse with each day.

Cecily tried her best to talk to her son and bring him out of this new personality that had settled in. It is difficult to reason with a temperamental eight year old, though, and so it was a long year of fighting and putting out the fires he accidentally set; a long year of snide comments and bitter loathing on Bastille's end. Finally, a family friend suggested that Cecily start to tutor the young boy in magic in an effort to help control the random bouts and possibly to give him an outlet for his temper. It might help, they said, and truly Cecily was running out of ideas for how to patch things up with her son.

And so for his ninth birthday, Bastille was gifted a family wand to use to practice with his mother. He was suspicious at first — Cecily neglected to tell him whose wand he was using — but despite the rocky situation with his mother, he was eager for the chance to put reading to practice. He immediately took to Defense Against the Dark Arts: what better way to protest his father's memory than to fight against the Dark? Bastille was obsessed with the notion, and as he worked with his mother to master some of the basics his mood started to improve, along with his bouts of magic. It was therapeutic in a sense, and it gave mother and son the opportunity to reconcile and repair their broken relationship. They spent the next two years studying together, while Bast demonstrated for his younger sister, and slowly but steadily he became open to the idea of listening to Cecily speak about Raegal once more.

He turned eleven in the June before he was meant to start at Hogwarts, and his mother took that time to have a new conversation with him about his father's alliance in the War. Bast still wasn't happy, and he still isn't happy about it, but he's older now and in a better place after working so closely with his mother. Working with the DADA books calmed his temper, and he wasn't even angry when Cecily finally admitted what he had grown to suspect over the years of tutoring: he had been practicing with his father's old wand, and it had taken to him nicely. Bastille continued to use it until he got his own at the start of his first year.

Status: approved

Metamorphmagus

Saoirse Leia Dwight was an oblivious child to the realm of magic and all that it held; the only signs of enchantment came in her early childhood when her mother was still around. Her sign of magic came at six and her sign of being a Metamorph were placed right around the time of her mother's death, when her sorrow came so did the look change. Looking into the mirror, crying her heart out her crimson red hair turned as silver as silver could get, like she had been trapped inside for months at a time. Her maternal aunt was the first to discover this, helping to train Saoirse in these newfound abilities, but Saoirse could never really grasp onto it, once her aunt moved away, she had left this memory behind for good. One night in the rain grasped and pulled her mind back to these abilities, she found herself wanting some sort of change. She pulled down her hair and managed to turn a few strips of it a strange twilight purple, then all of it became twilight purple causing her to momentarily freak-out before managing to turn it back to a few strands.
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The next event of her abilities came at age 9, in a moment of rage and anger her eyes flashed a beeming, ruby red. Scaring her muggle family who rushed to calm her down. She found that she liked this new ability and began to use it as often as she could, deciding to walk around with blonde hair or have a green eye color like her father. Making her nose ever so thinner, she felt lie she should embraced this or maybe in reality it just made it easier to keep up with the trends. Changing her appearance became a frequent thing, and she decided that she was more interested in her Metamorph abilities rather than her magic for quite a bit. As she increased her skill ever so slightly, she began to use it for deeper meanings. While she couldn’t completely alter her appearance, she could have two minor changes or a large change going on, such as an eye and nail change or a full-colored hair change. Overtime she became less in tune with the Metamorphic abilities and occasionally changed her appearance, enjoying it more as a fun past time when it was just her or maybe her dog.
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These abilities stemmed from her mother’s side, as do her magic powers. Most that hailed from the Jackson-Amherst family were skillful Metamorphmagus with one or two being Aurors. They tend to take pride in both talents the family held, as they come down from the beginning of their line. Her mother stood as one of those many talented ones, being able to entirely change her appearance at simple will, but her mother wasn’t quick to mention it to Saoirse’s father, for fear that he would turn her away thinking that she would use her power for more malicious intents regardless of whether or not she truly did, causing problems later in Saoirse’s childhood; when she had to deal with both magic powers and Metamorphmagus powers.

STATUS; APPROVED