Durmstrang NPC iNPC Registry

Character: Nadya Andrulevičus
Year: Second (35 points)
Broom: None (does not play)

Sta: 3
Eva: 6
Str: 5
Wis: 9
Arc: 6
Acc: 6

Ability: N.A.

Stats: Approved
Abilities: None were listed, please be aware that once these close you will not be able to apply for abilities for your character until this opens up again.

Name: Valentin “Der Niffler” Schnell
Link to Character Description
Year: "2nd" (35 stat points)
Broom: School Broom

Role Aspirations:
First choice: Seeker
Second choice: Second-string Seeker
Third choice: Second-string Keeper
Fourth choice: Keeper
Fifth choice: Second-string Chaser
If none of the above are available please owl me and I will pick from what is left.

Character Stats:
Stamina✵ 6
Evasion✵ 6
Strength✵ 2
Wisdom✵ 10
Arcane Power✵ 1
Accuracy✵ 10

Ability Application: Keen Eye

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Keen Eye

Note for mods: I am applying for this ability regardless of if my NPC will ever get to play as a Seeker, and if he is to play another role I will make up a suitable excuse for him to be playing in the respective position. However, this ability would be central to his backstory regardless and I want Keen Eye for him no matter what role he gets.

As mentioned in his full backstory, Valentin has genetically superior eyesight. This natural advantage led to him taking advantage of his vision from his earliest years, thereby enabling him to hone it further with many years of practice. Even before quidditch, Valentin had always tried to impress other people with feats of visual acuity and proprioception. After all, if there was one thing Valentin needed other than food, water, and air, it was attention. Often he would combine his lightweight frame with these visual talents, balancing on a high tightrope while catching grapes or marbles that his friends threw from ever-farther distances. After stealing shiny objects this boy “Niffler” would often run off to climb a high tree in the park from which he could observe his pursuers from a distance. The fact that it was almost always the same tree, however, was a symptom that he had always really wanted to be caught in the first place. That, and it was a very fine tree for climbing.

Another habit of Valentin’s that contributed to developing a keen eye was his kleptomania itself. The people he stole from were always people he loved or otherwise wanted attention from, so a lot of people came to expect this game from him. His family especially stayed highly vigilant since his little bouts of thieving could end up inconveniencing them if he was not spotted beforehand. As a result, Valentin needed to become very observant of his targets and be able to spot openings where his theft could succeed without being detected. Also, as many people tried to hide away their shiny objects, Valentin had to practice spotting and guessing where any given precious MacGuffin might be tucked away.

Ever since he learned how to mount a broom, Valentin has loved to fly fast. Not only was speed flashy and could garner a lot of praise from his peers when augmenting stunts, it made running from pursuers even more exciting. However, with speed comes great danger, so his sometimes reckless maneuvers often require for him to quickly spot an incoming branch and other obstacles that can be hard to see at high velocities. Although his keen eye continues to get practice during high-speed chases and daredevil stunts, this does not prevent Valentin from occasionally failing and wiping out. Usually the Niffler can be seen with wounds, sometimes bandaged and sometimes not, that resulted from moments when his powers of observation failed. Broken bones can be an excellent deterrent, but pain is no match for Valentin’s habitual dangerous behavior – instead, the threat of injury compels him to see better, spot faster, and predict with ever-greater precision.

To sum up, a natural genetic gift combined with a lifetime of practice has given Valentin a keen eye, which is a trait that has surely saved his life on a number of occasions.

Word Count: 476

Completely Unnecessary Photos

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This is so exciting!

Stats: Approved
Abilities: Approved

Rudolf Novikov

STATS

~ Strength: 10
~ Evasion: 8
~ Accuracy: 8
~ ArcPower: 7
~ Wisdom: 2
~ Stamina: 10
= total of 45

Abilities

01. Monster Hunter

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Rudolf’s mother might have hung up her monster-hunting gear by the time that her son was born, but she still had an entire library’s worth of stories to pass along. Although Anna Novikov might not have achieved very much in her short-lived career, she’d done enough research to practically become an expert in the field of monsters and magical creatures. What else was she supposed to talk about when little Rudolf wouldn’t fall asleep at night?

At first, Anna's stories sounded more like fairy tales than field reports. She started with the more whimsical magical species; her bedtime tales were filled with unicorns and dragons and embellished with fantasy-like detail. Eventually, things started to get more practical. Rudolf learned about hippogriffs and grindylows, mermaids and centaurs. He giggled through Anna's profiles of flobberworms and gnomes, and huddled close to his mother's side when she turned to frightful topics like acromantulas and basilisks. They spent their days together pretending to do battle with giants and escape from dementors. When night fell, Anna tucked her son into bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Once he'd finally nodded off to sleep, often in the middle of her story, she'd remind him in a whisper that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Eventually, Rudolf grew out of playing games with his mother. He stopped needing her stories to fall asleep, and their discussions turned from monsters and beasts towards his upcoming first year at the Durmstrang Institute. The boy had no plans to become a monster hunter like his mother had always aspired to be, and as such he saw little point in memorizing all of her facts and statistics. Still, he couldn't deny that the knowledge could be useful. There was no telling if or when he'd run into a monster that was out for his blood. With his mother's unofficial training, he might be able to protect himself from an unfortunate end.

A year of Durmstrang education turned Anna's old stories from general knowledge into a strategic advantage. The school reminded Rudolf of where his trust was best placed: with his fellow purebloods. Perhaps he wouldn't go actively looking for monsters, but he'd definitely know what to do with them if they came his way. His mother's experience would help him find their weaknesses, their soft spots, their flaws -- and his school training would give him the tools that he needed to take the creatures down. After all, it was his duty as a wizard and as a Durmstrang student to protect himself and his schoolmates from the clawed beasts that waited outside of the castle walls.

WC: 439

02. Martial Artist

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After Rudolf’s second year of schooling, he had become a much more confident wizard than ever before. His small arsenal of spells felt like enough to take on any problem — in fact, he could hardly remember how he’d survived without his wand in hand. Rudolf's father must have been able to see his son's confidence tipping dangerously close to arrogance, because one summer evening after the family had finished eating dinner, he sat Rudolf down for a talk.

"What do you do if you lose your wand in a duel, Rudolf?" he asked evenly, peering at the thirteen-year-old boy curiously. Not sensing the trap that was hidden underneath his father's civility, Rudolf shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"What could I do? I'd have to surrender, wouldn't I? I won't know how to do wandless magic for a long time." It seemed like a fine answer to the boy. He could hardly compete against an armed wizard; to do so would mean certain defeat.

"No!" Rudolf's father bellowed, pounding his fist against the table. Rudolf jumped, shocked to see his father react with such fire. He'd always been a calm and collected person. Had Rudolf's answer really been wrong enough to warrant that violent response. He watched his father fearfully as the man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, frowning at his son.

"You are already making the mistake that I see so much. Magic is your tool, Rudolf, but it is not your crutch. If you can't do anything without it, then you don't deserve to have that wand." Rudolf's face burned red in shame and his gaze dropped to the floor. What made his father qualified to talk about getting by without magic? He'd been raised just as pureblooded as Rudolf had been. He worked for the Ministry of Magic, even. If he didn't have his wand, Rudolf doubted that his father could get by.

"Get up," Rudolf's father ordered, and he heard the scrape of the dining chair against the floor. Slowly, the boy looked back up to see his father standing behind the table, beckoning him over. "Come on. We're going to pretend that I'm here to...kill your mother." Rudolf's eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Mrs. Novikov had heard anything. "What do you do?"

The boy shrugged, swaying uncertainly on his feet. "What can I do?"

"You know what!" Rudolf's father rebuked him. "I know that they taught you better than this at school. You don't have your wand. You have to protect your mother. What are you going to do about it?" Slowly, Rudolf moved around the table and faced his father. He swung his arm out uncertainly in a weak punch that cut through the air in front of his father's nose, and the man nodded solemnly in approval. "Good. Again. Don't be afraid to hit me for real, Rudolf. I won't punish you." A small smile crossed his father's lips, and Rudolf smiled back. He struck his father lightly in the chest and was shoved backwards in return. The two men wrestled for a few minutes more before Rudolf's father raised his hands in surrender.

The lesson had been learned: magic may have been Rudolf's birthright, but it wasn't going to float him through life. Eventually, there were going to be obstacles that couldn't be cursed away; as long as he kept practicing, Rudolf's fist would be just as useful as the wand that it held.

WC: 582

03. Fearless

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It hadn't taken Rudolf very long to learn that there was no place for fear at Durmstrang. He'd been thrown into the deep end in the very first week of his first year, when his entire class had been taken deep into the grounds for "survival training". If that didn't force Rudolf to face his fears early on, he didn't know what would. The very nature of the Durmstrang Institute strengthened the boy, making him tougher, more resilient. As Rudolf started to take an interest in martial magic, he became less and less worried about physical threats. He had the means to protect himself, and he was learning more with every lesson. The jittery nerves that had plagued him during his first few days were quickly calmed as he got to know his classmates, living with them and learning as much as he could from the older boys. Durmstrang was the fire that was forging Rudolf into a steadfast and strong wizard.

His time at school wasn't the only thing that eased his fears, however. His parents had taught him their own lessons and prepared him for survival in the magical world. Thanks to his mother's bedtime stories, Rudolf wasn't worried about creatures or beasts. He knew better than to go chasing after dragons or basilisks unprepared, and he could keep his calm in the face of animal danger. While he wasn't exactly battling monsters every day, Rudolf knew that he could, and that was enough to help him keep his composure.

His father had saved Rudolf from himself, making sure that he didn't cripple himself with a total reliance on magic. They worked hard in their summers together to build Rudolf's physical skills, keeping him in shape and teaching him the ins and outs of physical dueling -- or, like the nonmagi called it, a good old-fashioned street brawl. Rudolf didn't love the idea of resorting to such barbaric means, but at least he was prepared to come to blows.

As a graduating fourth year, Rudolf feels like he can handle anything that the world might throw at him. Monsters? No big deal. Curses? Nothing that a counter-spell couldn't solve. All-around jerks? A punch to the face should work nicely. Rudolf has been raised to take care of himself, and intends to use all of his skills and abilities to keep himself and his loved ones out of danger's way. Rudolf may only be a teenager, but he's designated himself as a protector, and protectors cannot afford to be afraid of anything.

WC: 422

Stats: Approved
Abilities: Approved

Stats: Approved
Abilities: Approved - Prefectionist
Second ability is unchosen

Romeo Marchonné

Statistics- 36 Points to match Piérre's
Stamina- 7
Strength- 10 (11 Obnoxiously Strong)
Evasion- 7
Accuracy- 8
Wisdom- 4
ArcPower- 0

Broom- School Broom (Subject to change based on June event)
Role- Beater, Keeper, Chaser, stats can be altered for Seeker if needed desperately

Year One- Obnoxiously Strong (+10% Strength)

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Ever since I joined this marvelous world of magic, I've been asked one question invariably: Are you part Giant?

'You certainly don't look tall enough to be one.' Some would say. 'How in the world can you lift something that's nearly three fourths your size? Giant blood, surely?' I would only shrug before smiling and turning back to my books. Durmstrang had been more of the common questioners. After all, in Hogwarts, part-giants were more common. I wasn't really questioned much, being only a meek 4'11" when I first entered the school and having grown a whopping 2 inches since I've transferred to Durmstrang.

Really, I owe everything to Maddie. It was only through her efforts and her... ahem... assertive methods of speech that I was ably accepted into this school. Of course, no student would be able to attend if they could not first make it to the school itself. Survival of the fittest, as the motto implied. With this I had no issue. I had learned of the culture ahead of time, before I even considered transferring from the comfortable halls of Hogwarts, though perhaps I should have stayed in the four house's halls for a bit longer, since letters from dearest Piérre informed me of some dramatic events that could have proved helpful for preparing me for the survivalist tendencies with Durmstrang.

Even without preparation, however, (though I should not say that I was completely without preparation, for I have had some experiences with camping, fishing, and some handling with a bow,) I managed quite excellently. Within a week of my first arrival on the banks of the appointed assessment, I had finally made my way to the school itself no worse for wear than a small scar over my right eye; a trophy from an interaction that does not deserve to be mentioned here. Yet, I do not think too much about it now. Piérre is unaffected by it, which I suppose is for the better knowing that it is silent knowledge that Durmstrang shapes its students by borderline militaristic ways.

As to my strength... Well, there is not much that I can truly say about it. I have always been strong. My first Muggle guardians always asked my help picking things up, unloading groceries, pitching or felling tents. Unlike Piérre, it seemed, who received natural agility and a general tendency to be slipperier than an eel. Yin and Yang, I have no doubt.

Ever since settling myself in Durmstrang, I have been studious and uncomplacent, always seeking to improve myself no matter what. As my "Ravenclaw" tendencies proved, I yearned for knowledge, and yet, I still felt that with all my efforts, I was still much stronger than most people I had the pleasure to run into. One of these people was Hans-- Hanzo if he really wants me to call him by his proper name-- who told me about the Quidditch team of Durmstrang. Truth be told, I had not heard much about the team; Hogwarts' four teams being rather empowering and the other magic schools having their means and methods of success. Nevertheless, I decided to join anyways. I had to do something to put my unnatural strength to use, though my form did not seem to imply my strength at all.

Having played with the team for an entire year, I am more confident in my strength, and with the team now heading for the large stage, I am more than excited to prove myself worthy of being a student of Durmstrang, despite my transference from this school that we are now competing against.

May the best team win.

601 words

Stats: Approved
Abilities: Approved

Alisa Alekseyevna Sokolova

Stats: Stamina: 7 Evasion: 7 Strength: 4 Wisdom: 9 Arcane Power: 11 Accuracy: 7

Abilities:

Year 1 – Evasive Maneuvers

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The second thing Durmstrang taught Alisa, after the fact that everything on the castle grounds would kill a First Year student given the chance, was how to dodge.

She met her cousin Kirill for the first time on the first morning after they had come back from the survival training with the headmistress. Having a full night of sleep in a comfortable bed, the luxury of a hot shower in the morning and a breakfast table laden with delicious-smelling food made it her best day in well, pretty much exactly a week. She still didn’t know the other First Year girls well, missed her father, her grandparents and her friends from muggle school, but on that morning she had hope. Hope, that now that they were in the castle things would settle down and she’d be able to learn to get accustomed to life at Durmstrang.

The thing was that they shared a name. She hadn’t known that she had any cousins, had seen her uncle exactly once and never met her grandparents on her father’s side of the family. In theory Alisa was aware that there was a Russian pure-blood family called Sokolov, that she had relatives, that they featured prominently in magical society, but it had never affected her in any way.

Kirill on the other hand knew of her existence, knew that he had a cousin by his blood traitor uncle who had shamed their family by marrying a muggle. When he heard that there was a First Year girl in the dorms who shared his name, a name reserved for the great and the powerful, and that she was a half-blood, he knew who she was.

Their first interaction was horrible. Within ten minutes Alisa had a goblet of apple juice poured over her head by the Third Year and been cursed to hell and back. It earned him a detention, but if anything Kirill was proud of it, of having shown the girl her place.

Alisa spent her first year of school learning to anticipate when the spells would come flying, when somebody would try to trip her up from nowhere, when somebody was about to shove her from behind. Any place without a professor present meant that she was open game to her cousin and his pure-blood friends. They used her as target practice for the new spells they had learned or simply try to push her around bodily.

She didn’t know what the thought, that maybe she would leave Durmstrang if only he made school dreadful enough for her. Alisa, however, was stubborn and a fast learner. They didn’t learn many spells that were useful for dueling in their first year, with meant that she couldn’t fight back, but it didn’t mean that she had to take their bullying. Instead Alisa adapted. Her reflexes got better, her senses a bit sharper, her intuition better.

Running was for cowards, Kirill yelled after her once, but then he was a Third Year and never alone when he came for her, so she didn’t think he was the authority on that. Run Alisa did, however. She was lanky and fast and became good at jumping and ducking. It wasn’t always enough of course, there were days when she came back to the girls tower drenched in melted snow, or with her scarf missing, or with a scrap on her hand from when she’d fallen down. Still, she didn’t give up and vowed to become even better at dodging the attacks. She wouldn’t give her cousin the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

WC: 595

Year 2 – Fearless

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If you are exposed to something enough, you will become immune to it.

Alisa had been a happy child when she’d been younger, before her mother had been put into the hospital, before she had lost her memory and left them all alone. It had shaped her to see her lying motionless in her hospital bed, the machines in the room beeping but not a sound coming from her mama. She’d been so scared, scared that she would never wake up, that she’d never talk to her or play with her again, that she would be gone. In retrospect it might have been the more merciful path, to watch her mother die, to mourn her but keep all the good memories of her while doing it. Untainted.

Instead Marya had woken up, woken and looked at Alisa and not recognized her. Her mama had looked at her like she was a stranger, without the love that used to be in her eyes whenever she looked at her daughter. That had scared Alisa more than the coma, that no matter what she told her or showed her, her mother didn’t know who she was.

Then, one morning, she’d been gone. What if she’d never come back? What if she’d never see mama again? There was more fear, fear and grief and Alisa had cried for days. What if her father would forget about her too? What if he’d leave her too, and her grandparents as well and she’d be all alone? She had latched onto them, afraid that they would vanish from her life as well, that all the people she loved would be gone one day.

The thought staid with her, a nagging fear at the back of her mind, one that was always there no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

Going to Durmstrang only made it worse. It separated Alisa from her family, meant that she’d be away from them for months on end. What if they wouldn’t be there one day, if she came home to an empty flat?

Then there was Kirill (and later Nikita) who made her afraid to leave her dorm on her own, to walk through the corridors or be outside by herself, to still be in the library after dark. They and their stuck-up pure-blood friends haunted her whenever they had the time. There were others of course, older girls the dorm who looked down on her for her muggle mother or pitied her because she had ditched them, but Alisa learned to tune them out, to ignore their words and their looks.

She’d spent four years of her life afraid until one day she didn’t flinch anymore when somebody said something nasty behind her back, didn’t cringe away when her cousin walked by her on the way to class.

Alisa had become numb to it, the fear. She was so used to it, so attuned it, that somehow it stopped mattering. What if Kirill would hex her? He’d done it multiple times before and he’d do it again, being afraid of it wouldn’t change anything. What if the older girls judged her for a mother who’d run away and never come back? Alisa couldn’t change their opinion, couldn’t change that they considered her inferior just because of her blood.

She was too stubborn to give in, to hide and cry and pity herself. Fear was useless. It stopped affecting her the same way it affected other people. It was a permanent companion that she knew was there but stopped caring about.

WC: 593

Year 3 – Perfectionist

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On the first day of her Third Year at Durmstrang, in the early afternoon when the students had just arrived at the castle an Kirill was already staring at her hatefully from across the courtyard, Alisa had enough.

She was done being afraid of him, and she would be done running from him and standing in his shadow as well.

His mother was a pure-blood and her mother a muggle. So what? It didn’t make her father any less talented of a potions master, didn’t make her uncle any less of a vile asshole, didn’t make Kirill any less of an arrogant brat. Who did he think he was, looking down on her just because he’d grown up in magical society and she hadn’t?

Those thoughts had always be there in the back of her head, a source of bitterness and anger she’d tried to ignore because felling that way wouldn’t change anything. Even if it wouldn’t, however, even if he would get away with casting spells at her in dark corners, she was done giving him the satisfaction of saying that she was below him, that her father had been rightfully cast out from the family (Alisa knew that he’d left long before they’d cast him out, but her cousin obviously had never been told that particular fact about their family history).

Alisa Alekseyevna Sokolova would show her cousin and the whole school that she was just as good as any of them, that her father was a great man with a great daughter, and could call stick their entitlement up their asses.

She’d always been one of the better students. Alisa enjoyed studying, enjoyed learning new things, learning about magic. Class had been one of the places where everyone treated her the same, where the professors graded her just as harshly as they graded a student with more magical blood in the family. It came easy to Alisa to study even harder, to practice any spell another and another and another time until she got it absolutely right. She enjoyed history and astronomy, sat over books well into the night, memorizing all the information she could, piling up more and more knowledge.

Her grades got better and her spellwork more advanced, her jinxes came harsher and she was the first to raise her hand in class more often than not. Alisa wanted to be the best. Because if she was the others would have to live with the knowledge that they had lost to a half-blood girl with a muggle mother.

She was done with their shit. Spite made her strive for perfection, to be the best of her class, her year, to be the one the professors used as an example to show the other students how diligent they should be in their work.

The fight was on.

WC: 471

Stats: Approved
Abilities: Approved

Sofia Bucur Stat Basis: Year 4;+1 from Quidditch win Broom: Bluebottle Stats: Stamina: 4 (+2 due to Bluebottle) Evasion: 15 Strength: 2 Wisdom: 9 (+1 from Erin's Quidditch win) (+2 due to Bluebottle) Arcane Power: 0 Accuracy: 15 Abilities: I. Evasive Maneuvers II. Evasive Maneuvers III. Lovely Creature

Quidditch Position: Seeker (fine with second string to give Aida her chance to play); Catcher (second string is also fine, let them play); Keeper (second string again, let them play). The only role she is unsuited for with this stat arrangement is BEATER.

Abilities

Evasive Maneuvers (purchase 1)

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Some are strong. Some are quick. Sofia is the later. While some might talk of days of hunger and strife where they had to be strong to survive, in Sofia's case that was not true. She was never strong, but she was quick. In a school that prides itself on what some might consider toxic masculinity, it more reeks of testosterone. She, like many of her peers merely adapted. Not everyone could be strong. Nature did not work like that. However, Sofia was very hard to catch. She could run quickly and she was quite agile. Nature bestowed some of course, but she also invested time and effort into refining her physical potential.

Admittedly she is a weak caster, while incredibly capable in terms of casting her spells ultimately had minimal effect on her opponents in terms of damage. While some might think it is due to her gentle nature which in part is true, she lacked the want to cause harm. Spells were merely a utility, a means to an end. In this regard she likely differed from many of her peers. It is for that reason she needed to be first, to be just a bit faster and to bend a little bit better than her peers. For the most part it has allowed her to remain on par with her contemporaries so that she can focus her interests on what is truly of interest to her.

The question of course is how. Nature is only half the equation. She did indeed have the propensity to be hard to catch, her tiny, slender form being a small target. Her long legs granting her the stride to break away from her pursuers. However it was through practice that she learned how to escape the reach of most.

Each morning she wakes at five and takes a jog. The distance often varies in accordance with the weather among other conditions, but she can often measure it in duration. An hour a day spent running, be it through the fields or trails or even the halls, she would try to always be in motion. During the warm months, while brief, she would replace her morning ritual of a long jog with a swim in the icy waters. She could be seen swimming as soon as the ice had fully melted and the snow had melted on the ground. Her lips would be blue and she would be left shivering but she always felt satisfied following, there was something about large bodies of water that always attracted her.

WC: 426

Evasive Maneuvers (purchase 2)

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This was followed by stretching. It was a myth, at least to her, that one should stretch before a work out. She had been performing yoga since her first year, a pastime taught to her by an upper class men. Admittedly it saved her skin more than once. She was not strong, both as a product of nature as well as lack of effort in that regard. However she was nimble. She only spent about thirty minutes each morning before breakfast moving through the various poses before she would break for the showers and breakfast.

Academics for the most part did little to contribute to her evasive nature. However Durmstrang was a school with more practical experiences if compared to other schools. There were times where her skill was tested against the brawn of her peers. It would have been an ideal story to claim that she was always able to get away, that she was faster and that she was able to cleanly avoid most attempts against her. That was not true, some students were both fast and strong. When she crossed them, her day was not good. However, that was infrequent and while some might claim that they experienced horrific bullying, that was not the case for Sofia. For the most part her peers were stoic, cold and indifferent. There was no passion to their pursuit, no recreation in the hunt.

When she joined the Quidditch Team this year, she refined that skill further during Flight Classes and on the pitch. Mobility in flight differs from the ground, she had every direction to go. At first her actions were clumsy but with time and practice her movements again became more fluid. In fact, she found she was at her best on a broom. Her movements unpredictable, perhaps because she was not trained initially by a coach but rather personal interest. Bludgers rarely hit her, when they did it was shattering. She broke her arm twice one week in practice. A deterrent for some, she simply concluded that she needed to be faster. 'Move or break' a conclusion she often whispers to herself when in a match. A demand, no a command to do better. To be faster and to avoid the worst of them.

She was relegated to the second string, oddly enough for her skill. She was faster, more nimble and yes she even had better aim than most. It was not an attempt to protect her delicate frame, rather to celebrate her skill. She was a powerful asset that they saved for later in the game. The devices used in matches was often scaled to the players, not the replacements. She being a replacement and more powerful, it skewed the decision-making of the game managers. A boon ultimately for her team.

WC: 465

Lovely Creature

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There was no denying it, Sofia was a pretty girl. While not particularly tall, she was fit. The intention was to look clean and flawless, a common denominator between Sofia and her peers. She spent a great deal of time maintaining her fitness as well as using makeup to maintain a pristine face. Her attire not particularly feminine and more in line with athletic or military fashion. Her accessories utilitarian for the most part, some of the other girls enjoyed baubles more than she did.

Being pretty does not grant her many favors in this setting, it merely made her one of dozens of girls with a similar face. Symmetrical. The sizes about right. Sure her eyes might be bluer than the next girl's but in the end there was a formula and they were different shades of the same face as far as she was concerned. She made no attempt to stand out, merely conform to the narrow definition of 'beauty', an asset as much as every other tool in her arsenal. The boys did it too of course. There were many that endeavored to make their stocky, sturdy forms appear slightly taller. Chose a cut for their jacket and their hair that displayed their angular features. Many were just as vain if not more so.

As she is one of many, there is no tales of suitors leaving flowers and trinkets at her door. Simply an appreciative nod that she too was adequate. It was a foolish notion to believe that vanity was left only to the vain. Because of this, there were always a few items on Sofia's person. The first being make-up. She could be seen often touching up her face, reapplying a sheen to her lips or blotting her face with an additional dollop of concealer. Her hair often up for the same reason, the gratuitous use of hair products to ensure that every hair is left in place, she was a busy girl and did not have time to freshen up her hair on a moment's notice. As such, few have seen her fresh-faced, not that there was anything wrong with her natural face. It was merely a face. However she wore make-up from the time she woke for her jog to when she went to bed, removing it only before she settled in for the night. Even her dorm mates have had limited exposure and she them.

WC: 404

Stats: Approved
Abilities: Approved

ABILITIES:

Year One: Evasive Maneuvers

Reducio

Sasha was fast. He had to be. Sasha wasn't always as big as he was, he just got really lucky as puberty hit, but before that he was short and skinny, which made him an easy target when playing hockey (his first sport). So, he learned how to be quick. They say that with natural athletes, there's just something in them that makes them good at everything they try. Well, that was Sasha. He was good at everything. But for some reason, for a very long time, he just couldn't get his speed up to par.

His uncle, Oskari, took notice in this very early on. While Oskari never approved of Sasha playing muggle sports and indulging himself in those things, he was seeing the mental toll that it was taking on his nephew as time went on. Conflicted between hoping that Sasha would take it as a sign to leave the game and begin focusing on his future as a wizard, or entertaining him for a little while and letting the harsh reality hit him one day, Osakri decided on the latter, busting out his skates (which were outdated and collecting dust) and taking Sasha out to the rink.

After rigorous hours, varying situations each time, Sasha was finally faster than his uncle. Oskari was relatively young, considering that Kyllikki was younger than his mother and therefore Oskari had been slightly younger than his father, so it was easier for him to be faster than the young boy. But Sasha proved that he had the strength and determination to push on, putting the time and effort into learning.

He applied the knowledge that he had learned every time he played the game. Since that day, he had come out of situations unscathed; not a scratch on him. He was always sore, that was a given, but he wasn't getting checked into the boards anymore, and his opponents were finding it harder and harder to trip him. Though fighting wasn't technically allowed, sometimes some of the other boys decided justice was needing served, and sometimes Sasha just so happened to be right there when it happened. Despite the boy obviously not being a great fighter at first, what he had on his side was his ability to dodge seemingly ever punch. As he got older, a lot of his teammates began asking him how it was that he hadn't lost any teeth, broken a nose, why he wasn't injury-stricken at least once in a season unlike the rest of them. Truthfully, he told them that he just worked on evading everything to the best of his ability, or that maybe being skinny had something to do with it.

When he began playing Quidditch, everything stuck with him. Unlike in hockey, where you may have an enforcer or two on your team (though they were mostly going out of style, thanks Ken Dryden), there were people actually aiming to hurt you. Sasha figured this was due to cultural differences; wizards could heal bones a lot faster than muggles could, so who cared if someone took a metal fucking ball to the ribs. Right?

Sasha. Sasha cared. He cared a lot because that hurt.

The first time he took a bludger to the ribs, his first thought, respectively, was "oh what the fuck." He was hurt, sure, but also annoyed. Brooms were- well, they were different compared to skates. They required a different type of control that Sasha, a first year at the time, was still adjusting to. He wasn't awful, as the boy had gone to show that he was a natural athlete and could pick up almost anything after a bit of training, but he needed to get out of his head. His next game, he didn't make the same mistake.

No matter how hard his opponents would try, be it practice or a real game, it proved hard to truly harm the raven-haired boy. His teammates would just laugh, shaking their head as they watched any beater wind their bat up, preparing to aim the whirling ball in his direction, and Sasha would just run his uncle's training through his head as he twisted himself out of the way, refusing to get hit again (because it hurt!).

[WC: 713]

Year Two: Charmer

Reducio

Sasha was charming in a weird way. He had that teenager awkwardness about him, shuffling around when he had to stand still for too long, pushing his hands in and out of his pockets, his pants falling at weird lengths over his legs, never seeming to be able to handle his growth spurts. His hair seemed to always be unkempt and his smile was often a little cheesy, but something about the boy just charmed those around him.

Perhaps it was his way with words (which were usually bad jokes or poor attempts to lighten the mood), or maybe it was because he happened to actually look halfway decent if you looked past the everything about him. But ever since he was a little boy, people seemed to be taken by Sasha, and that only increased as he got older. His lack of close friends were not because he couldn't get any, but it was because he preferred to keep an inner circle of people he was comfortable with. Though people tried to put him there, Sasha didn't like to be the center of attention much, and somehow that made people like him more.

There were ultimately a lot of good qualities about Sasha. His laugh, he smile (however cheesy), his kindness. He didn't like to believe he had a "way with words", because if anyone knew that he was an awkward teenage boy, it was him. And he was far too humble to ever admit that people were actually looking at him the way that he thought they were, that people always seemed to smile a little brighter when he spoke, even if what he said was actually nothing interesting. Elias once told him that he was the epitome of "head empty, no thoughts"; whatever that meant. He wasn't smart. He was, again by the words of Elias, a "himbo".

For some reason, people seemed to like "himbos". He never really figured out what that was or what it meant, he was told it was just a dumb, good-looking, kindhearted jock, but he didn't know why so many people felt the need to find a word for it. Still, he was flattered if anything, because at least he was making people happy? Even the guys, not just the girls, would find themselves tonguetied around him, blushing, fishing for more things. But Sasha was an open book, everything he had to give was extremely obvious.

[WC: 405]

Year Three: Obnoxiously Strong

Reducio

Over the summer, Sasha decided that it was time to start growing up, and in more ways than one. His Quidditch career was progressing, and he was thinking that this might be his future. He sat on this thought for a while, because he would have much rather gone out into the muggle world and played hockey all his life, but his chances of making it to the NHL were basically 0 given that all of these years he should have spent training he was at "some boarding school that is like, super exclusive or whatever", that also just so happened to not have a hockey team. That tied in with the fact that Sasha was, well, himself, and by that one would mean he wasn't smart or good at anything other than athletics, he had one option: Quidditch.

Quidditch, like any other sport, required strength. Just because the kids who played it were magical, that didn't mean that they just miraculously got away without any training or actual abilities. You could always tell who was more passionate than others judging by who actually went out and put in the extra work when they didn't "need" to. Most people would think that anyone who played any sport would be doing this, but that wasn't always the case. Some people just thought that it was a fun, or it was just a hobby, so outside of team practices and games, they weren't really going out of their way to put in the extra work.

But Sasha? Sasha was.

He had always been that way. He didn't focus on anything for too long, always getting bored or fidgety, but he managed to stick to a real workout routine and accomplished a lot of things through it. Over the summer, if he wasn't spending leisure time at the rink or in the streets, he was lifting weights in his room, or doing some extra labor for his uncle by chopping wood or helping him work on projects (Sasha wasn't good at fixing things, but it was the thought that counts). All day, everyday, he had something going on to help him build up his muscle mass.

One of the things that really bugged him was when he heard about pros who were casually doing 500 pushups, and then Sasha would wonder why he wasn't doing 500 pushups. Well, his 13-year-old self couldn't. Not now, anyway, but he would get there. It was little goals like that which keeps him going. 500 pushups, lift these weights, one mile in 7 minutes, stuff like that. Once one thing was off the list, another thing took its place. He didn't want to be a bodybuilder or anything like that, but with more strength came more power behind his actions, and Sasha had to be the best if he was serious about this.

As his mind drifted to professional Quidditch teams, ones he might want to be taken by, Sasha found himself more than a little offended that Finland wasn't invited to be a part of the "Nordic National Team". Aside from just not having a regional team, Finland wasn't even invited to be a part of the Nordics? His anger over this issue fueled him, as he also swore to form his own national team and totally dominate everyone else. Sasha wasn't often angry, but this was just downright offensive.

[WC: 566]

Status: Approved

Nikolai Dragov

Race: Human
Year: Second Year (35 points)
Broom: Nimbus 1700 (School Broom for now until I graduate)

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

Stamina: 6
Evasion: 2 (+1 due to Nimbus 1700)
Strength: 10 (+1 due to Nimbus 1700)
Wisdom: 7 (+1 due to Nimbus 1700)
Arcane Power: 1
Accuracy: 9 (+2 due to Nimbus 1700)

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒

Evasive Maneuvers

Effect: Harder to hit on average, 10% chance that anything that targets this wizard automatically misses. This is rolled separate from the attack roll.

This ability can be acquired up to 2 times. When acquired twice, this stacks so when acquired a second time this becomes a 20% chance.

Reducio

Ever since he was capable of physically training and conditioning his body on his own with the guidance of his parents, the first thing they Nikolai was to be quick and nimble on his feet but explosive with that. His parents both attended Durmstrang Institute when they were younger as it was also where they met, knowing full well the ways of Durmstrang and how it is at school. Their teachings from the school carried on with them into their adult life and even their jobs as they forever stuck to the ways of Durmstrang and what they were taught, leading them to both be an exceptionally good wizard and witch in terms of magical combat prowess. Through this they shared their teachings and experience from Durmstrang with their son, Nikolai Dragov, making sure that he full well understood what Durmstrang would be all about the second he arrived there.

They put him through workouts and conditioning sessions every day, more so specifically making him do a workout in the morning every time before his home-schooling began. Most of these workouts consisted of him using mainly his feet for it and being quick on them along with using his instincts. His father would cast Bluebell Flames aimed at him, which obviously does no harm aside from setting clothes on fire. So, it was coming out of his fathers pocket to pay for the clothes that managed to get singed. With this though, Nikolai quickly learned to dodge things coming towards him and be able to successfully evade it. With this though, he was a master at playing games with other kids his age and being able to juke them out or avoid them.

His training with his father proved useful once he came across Muay Thai in a muggle book on martial arts that they had found. Nikolai quickly grew to find a liking for this form of martial arts known as Muay Thai and learned it alongside his father with the both of them consistently practicing on each other whenever they had the free time to. They would continue such practice up until the day his father had died on the job for the ministry. Nikolai felt a sort of disconnection to the martial art and stopped training in Muay Thai once his father passed for a good while.

Upon arriving to Durmstrang though and finding himself a distraction, Nikolai got back to it during his free time throughout his first year. His fathers training with him when he was younger proved useful whenever he sparred with others and was able to evade attacks, stepping to the side, weaving under them, etc. He was also quick in running and getting around to classes if he was ever cutting it close for whatever odd reason.

WC: 465

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘

(Of what is still open)
Chaser
Second-string Chaser
Second-string Beater
Keeper

Status: Approved

Player is aware that he does not have IC access to the broom on either character until post graduation. So it will not be used in the game.