Link to your encyclopedia thread: Snek Mama
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Sixth Sense

Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Some people say that sixth sense is said to be an intuitive natural thing, that you either have or you don't. Perhaps she just naturally had it. But if you asked her, Hjørdis would swear that she learned it along the way. Though, she's had this sense for as long as she could remember, she still considers it something she likely learned along the way. She could have been wrong - though if you asked her, she was never wrong - and it could have been simple intuition or some sort of innate ability that she had.

She always had this sense of being watched. It was hard to shake. It had been there for as long as she could remember. It might have been the onset of her vanity, arrogance and the idea that she was the centre of attention but it was still a feeling that she could not shake. She simply grew to get used to it. Expecting people to be watched and just making a note of who she thought was watching her - mostly to figure out why.

Growing up, Hjørdis was always used to attention. She was the only child, doted on by the father and grandparents she lived with. She thrived on their attention and things only got worse as she grew up. In childhood, her light hair started to grey very prematurely. Her whole head of hair was not grey by any means but strands started to appear. As she aged, strands became patches. She got teased about it, being called 'old' a lot. "Patchy" hair was not really something she enjoyed.

That girl that Hjørdis was sure looked at her funny, the boy that she could have sworn was staring at her from the back of the classroom, the owl that seemed to be judging her from the distance... It might have been because she was vain, it could have been connected to the fact that she considered herself the centre of attention or it could have been a gut instinct. Hjørdis had no idea but she just felt like all of these things were happening around her. It started to happen more and more. She started to focus on those feelings, instead of just accepting that people were looking at her.

She hated it, of course. However, it was the attention that she had for most of her life that started to teach her a lot. It showed her the power of paying attention to people. When people stared at her, noticing little things about her - such as the extra strands of white hair - it would affect her. It would bother her. Their observation was capable of hurting her feelings. During this time, it was when she started to notice people around her. Revenge, after all, was a dish best served cold. If she could get information on them, to use against them, then two could play at that game.

But as she got older, she learned how attention worked and how important it was to be observant. She started to pay attention to others. Little details about people told a lot. The way that they fidgeted, the flicker of their gaze, the little differences in their appearance as their mood changed. Hjørdis had no idea when it happened. But as she became more observant, she started to notice things that she had not noticed before. The person in the far corner that looked a little suspicious, something was wrong. The book that was out of place on her desk. She noticed little things about people that she did not notice before. The little habits that they had when they lied or the traits they did when they got nervous.

Hjørdis noticed things moving around a little in time. If she kept her area clean and tidy, she would know when someone went through it or moved something. But the child did not pay that much attention to her belongings. Her trunk was often a mess in her younger years and she could not tell you if anything moved. If she paid more attention, she might have been able to. But she did not. It was the people around her that she focused on, the animated objects that could harm her. The portraits on the walls that seemed to be watching her even though they looked like they were asleep, the statues of armour that she felt were watching her every move and judging her.

In some cases, she knew things about people because she knew them. Her father, for example, was normally a very clean, well dressed and well groomed man. But there was a few times when she noticed that his shirt had not been ironed or he had not shaven recently. She could tell he was stressed or something was bothering him because of it. It was an action that was out of the ordinary. In her younger years, she might not have even noticed. But as she started to observe others, she started to pick up on their habits better.

In time, this started to extend to more people around her. It extended to the objects in the room or the feeling that something, somewhere, was wrong. She would enter a room and notice that someone had moved something. She might not be able to tell you exactly what was different but she would know something was 'off'. It would be a case of 'something not feeling right'. Hjørdis would feel something was off, even though she could not specifically say what.

With practice and time, she started to notice more. People assumed that her intuition was very good, that she just had a sixth sense for these things. Perhaps that was it. She did not believe that was it, however. They were things that were born from understanding the power of attention or appearances and learning to be more observant.

At the age of eleven, this feeling was just starting out. However, it started to grow and develop as she got older. She was meticulous in certain things. Organisation and tidiness were two traits that she started to develop over the years. She knew where all of her things were. She observed the environment around her. Changes in them usually did not go unnoticed. Of course, she was not always right. But she started to get better and more accurate at it as she practiced. She was just better at observing people, for the simple fact that she paid much more attention to them. It was the living objects that were more likely to be a threat.

Word Count: 1104

Stats:
Stamina | 15
Evasion | 9
Strength | 2
Wisdom | 20
Arcane Power | 10
Accuracy | 14

Word Count: 528 Words

Stats:
Stamina| 7
Evasion| 6
Strength|5
Wisdom| 4
Arcane Power| 6
Accuracy| 7

Status: Approved. Needs to be approved for Index first.

Encyclopedia: Here!

Ability: Charmer

Description:

Reducio

Søren was never a natural at being charming. His older siblings clearly were and that made Aldrich and Margaux feel like they could throw their youngest to the dogs. Where Whitley and Thatcher could stride through a ballroom floor with ease and hold a conversation much past their years, Søren was basically a fish out of water. The first time he was allowed to attend a gathering with his parents, he did what any kid his age would. He ran around the room, enticing other eight year-olds to do the same. He smashed the premier finger foods into his face and practically ruined his suit not even an hour into the event.

After complaints from business partners and company members about Søren corrupting their children, his parents hired a tutor. Classes were five days a week and two hours long. They had successfully hammered him into a polite and conforming young lad. He stopped being a nuisance at parties, but what his parents had come to realize was that he stopped being much of anything at all. The whole ordeal was embarrassing to Søren and in an effort to not disappoint his parents further, he decided to keep his lips sealed and his presence at parties to a minimum. No tutor could break this mould as the boy was set on being a perfect little angel. That, unfortunately, was not what his parents wanted.

Søren began to pick up on this and tried to apply himself better, making more conversation and using the bit of wit he garnered over the years to make friends in high places, like he thought his parents wanted him to. With eager eyes and ears, he would beg his parents to give him feedback, but the only thing they would ever say was, “Just leave the mingling to your brothers.” It was disappointing. Young Søren had tried so hard and he just couldn’t get the results that his parents wanted. He was crushed.

Addison, his older sister, would be the only one to notice. Or perhaps she was the only one to care as if one missed Søren’s pouty behaviour, they were probably blind. She was observant. Her watching eye and lurking figure didn’t miss much of the activities going on within the Silverwoods’ penthouse. Even when she was confined to her bedroom during parties, Addison still found a way to slink around the place. By the end of the night, she could compile a whole list of every deal, every conversation and every backstab that went on. While she acted like a Hufflepuff on most days, Søren knew she would be a perfect fit for Slytherin too. It was a shame that she was a squib, though. A squib that their parents refused to let the world know existed.

When Søren recounted his experience to Addison, sobbing because he wasn’t the charmer his parents wanted him to be, it took everything in her to not slap some sense into the boy. She had to remember; he wasn’t even ten yet. He needed to be prodded in the right direction. She sat him down and took his hands.

“Søren, you are charming. Sure, you can’t glean information like your brothers can, but you’re a kid. That’ll come with age,” her words were so passionate and kind, “Besides, those people that you’re so worried about? They love you. Have you ever noticed the way Mr. Gilbert laughs when you talk to him? He doesn’t even laugh like that with his own wife! You’re kind, funny and interesting. That’s what makes you charming.”

Søren hadn’t thought of it like that before, but it did occur to him that he was never companion-less at galas and soirees. In fact, guests tended to seek him out, not the other way around. He could make friends at the blink of an eye and his ability to seem sincere and loyal had them inquiring about him when he was absent. It was natural for him.

Still though, he would have liked to be good at what his parents wanted him to be good at. So, Addison helped him. She taught him how to observe body language and little details like an off-centre tie or bitten fingernails. She explained to him how to use these details to his advantage, how to appear coy to make people believe he was trustworthy, how to screw someone over without them feeling hurt. Søren put it all to good use. His personality gave him an edge over his brothers, and even his parents, when it came to picking people’s brains apart. Everyone liked him so they told him more than he needed to know. He could finally earn the respect of his parents and it surely made him a happier kid.

[Word Count: 795]

Statistics:
Stamina - 6
Evasion - 8
Strength - 7
Wisdom - 6
ArcPower - 2
Accuracy - 6

Link to your encyclopedia thread: here

Ability: Fearless

Reducio

There were some things you were supposed to be afraid of. It was normal thing to do, common sense, as many would call it. Climbing a steep cliff all by yourself? Bad idea. A Dark Wizard? Yes, better stay away from those. A dragon? Run for your life. It was instinct almost to fear what could maim you, or kill you, or do numerous other things to you that might be worse than either. Unfortunately, it was a sense Elaine had never possessed. Not as a young adult traveling through Eastern Europe, not as a teenager learning to throw the most bitter of curses, not as a 10-year-old about to begin her education at Durmstrang.

The other kids had been afraid of the Survival Training. Them, alone in the woods with only the Headmaster, sleeping out in the open where they would encounter all kinds of creatures. Young Elaine had been fascinated by the idea when she’d first heard of it, and actually been excited about going to explore the grounds of Durmstrang. The Headmaster was with them after all, he was the one the castle listened to, so what could really happen to them? Nobody would die, surely, that made no sense to her. Any cuts or bruises they’d get could be healed by a competent healer, and the worst things, the werewolves and trolls and giants and whatever else was said to inhabit the castle grounds, wouldn’t get past their protector. Durmstrang wanted exceptional students, it wouldn’t do to have them die before they could prove their worth.

Her new classmates had been disturbed by her calm, the quiet confidence which she’d walked through the forest, dark eyes intently studying their surroundings. Elaine hadn’t cared for their worries, hadn’t understood them.

Some attributed her lack of fear to a natural confidence, but even as a child she had been very well aware of all the things she couldn’t do. What Elaine had never done, however, was to agonize about her lack of skill or knowledge in a certain subject. There were things she was good at and things she wasn’t, and that was that. It wouldn’t do her any good to torment herself about not knowing a Shield Charm when somebody attacked her with a Knockback Jinx, instead she’d have to come up with another solution, a dodge or a Smokescreen Spell or something else that changed the situation into her favor.

Elaine was clever. Her missing fear wasn’t overconfidence or a lack of awareness, it was simple practicality. Fear made you freeze, fear made you do stupid things. It was useless to be afraid, and so Elaine wasn’t. It was one more in the many oddities that set her apart from her classmates.

WC: 456 words

Ability: Perfectionist

Reducio

Everyone made mistakes. Elena’s teachers told them in every class at Durmstrang, that mistakes were human. They were young, they didn’t know any better yet, they would learn eventually. She couldn’t help but be insulted by it, just a tiny bit more every time a professor ignored a sloppy mistake with a wave of their hand and a faint grin, as if nothing else was expected of teenagers.

The difference between a mistake and success was dedication, and nothing else.

Her dark eyes watched her fellow students pronounce an incantation with the stress on the wrong syllable, move their wand in a round shape instead of a circular one, stumble through an offensive spell in their haste to be the first to cast in a duel. They were easy mistakes, all of them. Simple things that they could have prevented had they concentrated properly or put more effort into their spellwork – but they didn’t.

True commitment was something few students, few people, were able to muster. They didn’t care as much for the details as they should have, but maybe that was Elaine’s nature talking more than the actual truth.

She had never understood how others could stop before they had mastered an art, how they could be satisfied with a mediocre result when there was perfection to be achieved, especially when spellcasting. A tiny detail in wand movement made the difference between blinding light and a barely-there cone of light. A jinx that was properly cast could do as much damage as Hex that wasn’t.

Elena spent hours after school mastering the spells they had been given for homework. The more complicated, the deeper her fascination ran. Each spell was like a puzzle, a riddle that was hers to solve only to move on to the next, harder one, afterwards.

From the beginning it was curses that fascinated her the most.

There was something inherently captivating about how the simple move of a wand, a spoken word and a thought could turn people’s insides out, blind them forever, make them turn against all they loved without hesitation. To Elaine it was almost like art, one that only few could master.

Of course there were other spells too that were complicated, intricate in detail and exceptional in their effects. Highly advanced Charms were no less of a challenge than curses, the conjuration of animals might be even more complex, and setting wards was a skill indefinitely more tricky than the act of tearing them down.

She tried her hand at all of it, if only for the novelty of the challenge. It gave Elena a sense of accomplishment to overcome what was thrown at her, to prove that with enough dedication she could learn any magi she set her mind to.

Only much later would she learn that there were some spells one shouldn’t try to master. Knowledge always had a price, and sometimes it was too high to pay.

WC: 490

Ability: Sixth Sense

Reducio

Elaine had been born with a sense of magic, a sense for magic, that had eluded both of her parents from when she’d been a child in kindergarten. Her first instances of magic had been as harmless as those of most children her age: a telly that changed the program back to the kids channel whenever her father wanted to watch the evening news, a dress that consistently changed its color from a bright pink to indigo whenever her mother made her wear it, a dog that tripped over its own paws when it was growling at one of her friends.

What made Elaine different was her intuition for magic, the way she had an innate ability to feel when a situation was off. It was something that only increased as she grew older and possibly was related to how she always looked at the word with dark, attentive eyes, taking her surroundings in with an intense curiosity that made her struggle to properly relate to other children.

She’d gotten skilled at recognizing when an object was enchanted, a place haunted, a classroom uninhabited. There was just something… an air about certain things, one what was just the slightest bit off, an incident waiting to happen or a trap that was about to get the next person sitting down on that chair peppered with dungbombs.

Once, when she was 13, Elena – they’d given her the nickname early and it had stuck – had identified a cursed sword correctly from simply staring at it for the better part of a lesson. It had been the way it reflected the light, she’d said, how the world bent around it, the aura that surrounded it where it lay on the wooden table, distracting the casual viewer with the pretty gemstone embedded in the hilt. Words hadn’t properly explained what was wrong with the item, it had just been a thought, a nagging at the back of her mind that this wasn’t right, that there was something she should know.

It had happened again at odd times, always a sudden sense that the situation was off, that something didn’t fit in where it should have. Elaine had understood even then that what she had wasn’t a talent that could be harnessed, not really, and more a sixth sense of when there was something wrong with the magic in a place or an object, the absence of a presence or the existence of one where there shouldn’t be.

Her senses were telling her things others didn’t notice. She considered that a helpful instinct to have, even though it irked her that it wasn’t something she could control or that always worked when she wanted it to.

WC: 450 words

Stats:
Stamina: 12
Evasion: 10
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 20
Arcane Power: 12
Accuracy: 12

Link to your encyclopedia thread: here

Ability you Are Applying for: Poison Resistance

Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Edric was a child who had rarely gotten sick. His brothers, Adair and Harry, sure, they would catch the odd common cold, something that was fixed easily enough with a potion from the local apothecary, or another bug that the local muggle boys they were playing with had spread around. When Edric had been seven, Adair had had the stomach flu quite badly and his father had even apparated them to St. Mungo’s in London to see a healer for it. Sickness was a natural thing, something Edric had been exposed to often enough in his life, but he had rarely experienced it himself.

Running noses, sore throats or fever were for the other children. He’d not once stopped to think and consider why he was the one got sick only once every few years, and even then only had a mild cold, a bit of a headache and was fine a day or two later. It was how things were, he just wasn’t sick. His parents had picked up on his above average immune system at some point, realizing that their youngest was very resistant to the common illnesses going around, but they had never mentioned it to him. It was not something too out of the ordinary, the boy was simply in very good health.

It was the same with food: Edric, being a young and active boy, would eat almost everything that was put in front of him. He wasn’t a picky eater by any means. If an apple looked a bit bruised or cake had been standing in the kitchen for a week already, well they tasted a bit different, maybe, but food was still food and his grandma had made that cherry cake and he wouldn’t waste her delicious food.

Where Harry turned up his nose at any food that was older than 3 days, and refused to this or that thing like tomatoes and black pudding, everything was game to Edric – which was an advantage when your siblings were teenage boys just as hungry as you. He had noticed that he could stomach things his brothers couldn’t, but being an innocent child he had never linked it to a better constitution and only taught them to be the more picky eaters.

He might have eaten some poisonous berries too, once, in the forest close to their house, and had felt vaguely sick after, but was clever enough to not mention it to his mother. She would have yelled him, he’d just known it. So instead his tummy had felt queasy for a day and he’d staid home while his father went to London for a day trip with his brothers. That had been a lesson learned: don’t eat things you don’t know or you’re gonna miss out on all the fun.

WC: 467

Stats:
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 10
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 11
Arcane Power: 5
Accuracy: 8

Link to encyclopedia thread: here

Ability: Prodigal Potions Learner

Description:

Reducio

Leander Fawkes, Gerald's father, had not been a particularly studious scholar during his time at Hogwarts. After graduating, he'd stuck his textbooks and class equipment in a tattered wooden chest; while he did not intend to go through the thick volumes any time in the near or distant future, he had the grace of classifying the lot as a somewhat valuable assortment of memories and decided to install the trunk in his new house's attic after moving in with his soon to be wife.

Years went by without anyone opening the darkened and dust-covered chest and, for a long time, it seemed as though it had been forgotten and left to rot among the attic’s spider webs. That is, until a pair of curious hands landed on its lid on one dull Sunday afternoon. A seven-year-old Gerald found it absolutely thrilling to go through the trunk’s contents. Gloves, phials, scales; his favourite discovery was pretty much automatically the black, dented cauldron buried under a pile of textbooks.

After deciding the cauldron was his new most prized possession and placing it inside his bedroom’s closet, Gerald proceeded to examine the many books inside the chest, starting with the ones whose covers were more brightly coloured. A couple of pages in on the first volume, he concluded he didn’t understand a thing and returned them all to the trunk.

It wasn’t until a few years later that the blonde boy revisited the chest in the attic. The summer holiday had begun, and his best friend was out of the country for the entire duration of July; Gerald simply had nothing to do. He’d thought he could try and put the cauldron in his closet to use.

There were about ten books on potion making inside the trunk. He discarded the ones that included ‘advanced’ in their titles and chose a thin, green volume to start with. To his utmost delight, he now actually understood the instructions written on its pages. He picked the easiest brew he could find and decided to give it a shot. Getting the ingredients took him little to no time, as his father kept a variety of supplies in his office; then, his mother agreed to get the stove working for him to heat his Sleeping Draught.

After successfully brewing the draught in his first attempt, Gerald reached what probably was the biggest realization of his short life. He loved making potions. He adored it. From chopping the ingredients to stirring the mixtures and hunching over the cauldron to check the colour of the potion. He spent the rest of the summer brewing, reading his father’s books, gathering ingredients. The Christmas break was spent in a similar manner, and so was Easter and the next summer holidays. By age ten, he was far into the first-year textbook.

Gerald’s love for potion making proved to be something more than a childlike obsession; it was an early-on discovered passion. His savings were always used for the purchase of the materials he couldn’t possibly get by himself; given how salamander tails were a recurring ingredient in the book’s recipes, Gerald had cut the tail of pretty much every lizard of his neighbourhood. He’d started Hogwarts with some very decent knowledge about second-year potions and more than eager to get officially initiated in a such wonderful art.

Word count: 554

STATISTICS
Stamina - 6 / Evasion - 7 / Strength - 6 / Wisdom - 6 / Arcane Power - 5 / Accuracy - 5

STATS

STA 8 | EVA 4 | STR 9 | WIS 2 | ARC P 3 | ACC 6 |

STATUS: Denied
Already has Charms Prodigal