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Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Charmer (WC: 410)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Reducio

To give you a view of how Jean-Papi is like I could only say it’s like Barnum in the Greatest Showman. Here’s a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkjhqJ55I1I

Jean-Papi was the very definition of what one would call the perfect specimen. With a smile to die for, pepper and salt hair, a well-trimmed handlebar moustache. Most see him as a fashion icon and he has a certain way with words. Some would claim he would entrance his audience. Whether this was due to his accent or solely because he’s French is up for speculation. To spice things up he even has that bad boy look going on as his left eye has scars running over it and is blind in it. However, he has the voice of an angel and could win you over by serenading you. In fact when JP was on stage performing with his band the crowd didn’t buy tickets to see him solely perform or to hear him sing. Oh, heavens no! It was of his showmanship, the way he performed and took over the stage and even let the crowd participate was unmatched. JP’s personality makes up for more than that alone. He’s honest, well mannered, has a heart of gold and is a hopeless romantic on top of that. In short, he’s the guy you would take home to introduce to your parents. He has the, sometimes annoying, tendency to always just know what to do or say whether this be a joke at the right time or just a supportive message.

His charming personality began taking root back in Beauxbatons where his female students were very much attracted to his rebellious nature and his flirtatious, but mannered, tendencies. The male students were in awe of how he got away with most of his mischievous adventures. Where most would have gotten detention JP just simply got a slap on the wrist. He was witty, quirky and just knew how to overwhelm a person with just his sheer personality. A dangerous tool in the right person’s hands. Jean-Papi truly learned how to hone this skill when he was on tour with his band, the Banshee’s Wail, to get inside restricted clubs and parties where he wasn’t invited too. Later on, whilst he was working as an auror, he used it during interrogations to trick them into giving him information to capture criminal wizards and witches. Where he really started to see the value it had.

JP was often called a gentleman, but never a gentle man. So come on ladies! What are you waiting on? This man is single so take your shot!

Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Non-Verbal Casting (WC: 428)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Reducio

This was a very different kind of task Jean-Papi had to tackle. One unlike any other he had gotten before. In Beauxbatons they were sticklers for the rules. They embraced their artistic side which was often seen in the way they moved their wands when casting spells, which caused JP to create a very graceful stance. Yet to the observer it would often feel and look like the French man was performing a dance with his opponent. Fluent, gracious even stylish were all words that came to mind when looking at him. It was quite distracting sometimes. Now, however, this did not seem to help him out with the task at hand. He had to learn how to cast without pronouncing the actual incantation for the spell. It would give them an edge if they were amongst muggles not to be recognised as a wizard, but also when facing an opponent as some spells would be rendered useless against them.

A skill like casting spells without pronouncing the incantation was an advantage and Jean was set on achieving this. Yet, after trying multiple times he was unable to do it. Frustration began to take control and he gave up. As he walked away from the class his umbrella was suddenly taken from him and as he turned to look who did he heard a click. The Professor laughed at him. “Come on, Jean! You aren’t going to surrender to a lockbox now will you? Try again. Concentrate, take your time and you’ll succeed.” Trying once again he concentrated. Yet nothing seemed to happen. Another attempt and now Jean had more than enough of it. He wouldn’t be able to learn it, but he didn’t need it that much after all. He only needed to use his wit to outfight his opponent. Before he could walk again once again, his friend noticed he would give up. “Expelliarmus!” No time to think, Jean worked on instinct alone and warded off the offensive spell without saying a word. Shocked, he looked at his wand and then his Professor. The Professor grinned and nodded towards the lockbox. So he was able to do it. Maybe he was just overthinking all of it. Now once again trying to open the lockbox. With a flick of his wand the lockbox clicked open and he was able to retrieve his family heirloom. At this day he knew that he would never again quit so easily not only had learned the skill of casting spells without saying a word, he also had learned to show determination.

Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Non-Human Enthusiast (WC: 2052)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Reducio

Rain was pouring outside the window. The wind was howling and battering the window shutters. Thunder roared through the skies and lightning illuminated the heavy, pitch black darkness. Inside the windmill there was a battle going on. Claire de Bois was giving birth to her children and it was a hard battle. Luckily for her she wasn't alone. A doctor, a midwife and her husband were there. Her husband, Jean-Papi Dupont, trying to support her with soothing and encouraging words and the doctor and midwife trying to get her child through this difficult process. The interior of the windmill was cramped due to the amount of people that were all pressed together in such a small area.

Come on now! Don’t give up on me now. Give it one more push and your babies will be born. Give it all you got now!, the midwife said. She’s tired, Gretta!, the doctor countered.

If you haven’t noticed these babies aren’t waiting on their mother. With or without her help they will get out of there. I would suggest she chooses the first choice. She bit the last part of her sentence at the doctor, but then focussed her attention back on the mother. What do you say? Are you ready to get to the finish line? Claire being far too tired to use her words or to sneer something to the midwife that she wasn’t the one giving birth, so she merely nodded her head.

Alright then. Push! Claire pushed as hard as she could and when she could do no more she fell unconscious whilst hearing the cries of the children she birthed. The doctor immediately went over to her trying to get her back to consciousness, but he knew it would be far too late. Claire had always been a sickly woman. With the amount of blood alone that was laying here he knew she would not recover. She wouldn’t make it. All he could do was give her something against the pain in her final moments. He turned towards her husband, JP, and shook his head. JP cried out in anguish.

You can’t do this to her! You must save her. She’s all I have!

I-I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do anymore… All I can do is give her something for her pain. It won’t be long now. JP looked at him with a stoic face before he muttered: Leave.

E-Excuse me?

I said, leave me. LEAVE!!!, he yelled at both the midwife and doctor. The midwife still holding the babies gave them to their father before taking her leave. When they both had left the windmill he hastily went over to the sturdy oaken cupboard and pulled out an old, dusty, thick book that looked worn down through ages of use and a vial with a mysterious liquid inside.

What most people didn’t know about JP and his wife was that he had made a deal with a mysterious old crone. His wife had been a sickly woman all of her life which had rendered her unable to have children. They had visited the finest hospitals and searched for the most gifted of healers in all of France, no spell or tincture was left untouched in their quest to conceive a child. Yet it would seem that the pair would be left without an heir. Until on a particular day where JP had heard whispers of a mysterious old crone in the north of France. Heated arguments had followed between them as JP begged and pleaded with his wife to visit her. After all if they wouldn't try it, they most certainly wouldn't have a child. Claire wasn't to be persuaded and talked about faith as if she had made peace with the decision that the universe and forces outside of their reach and understanding had forced upon them. NO, if she wouldn't give her blessing he would venture to the old crone in secret. Making up a story about how he had to travel somewhere for work, he had contacted a broker. Someone who he had met in the line of his work, this broker sold cursed objects and rumor had it that he had once contacted the crone.

After days of travelling they had finally narrowed her location down to a cave deep inside a local swamp. A place no one would think to look for. Once arrived the old crone wasn’t inclined to help JP at all. Why would someone like me help someone like you, hmmm?

JP let the insult slide. He needed something from her after all. Because I will compensate you handsomely. Please, she means the world to me. I need an heir. I made a promise and I’m nothing else, but a man of his word. Help me not to break my word. I will do anything and pay any price you name.

You think I am so easily persuaded by the promise of gold? The old hag sneered. What do you take me for?! A goblin? She spit the word as if it had left a bad taste. No, foolish wizard… I want something else… For what you ask is not a simple thing. No what you ask of me is to meddle with the fabric of the world and magic itself. You would want me to pull at a single thread causing the balance to unravel like a tapestry. Something like this would require a spell that is as ancient as magic and so powerful that it would leave me drained for hours. So… Are you prepared to give me something of equal worth instead of something so childish as mere gold? The crone, an ugly and vile wench who’s face looked bloated and filled with warts, hunchbacked, looked longingly and revealed a crooked grin.

As JP pondered her words, a fire crackled that heated a giant cauldron, with the contents unknown. There was something unsettling about her. She made him feel on edge and alarmed. The hairs in his neck stood upright. A testament of this fact. Did he really want this that bad? There was only one thought crossing his mind. Yes. He was desperate and delivered at the crone’s mercy.

Something tells me you already know the answer, but oui. I shall pay your price, crone. What is that you require?

An unsettling, sinister and dark laughter escaped the old woman. I do not require anything oh mighty Auror. I just long for something. A tongue that was forked, quickly licked her upper lip and was gone before the Frenchman could blink. I ask of you a staring glass eye, three magical candles, a vial of Acromantula venom and the dung of an abraxon horse. I’m sure a skilled wizard like yourself could easily retrieve these items.

The Frenchman made a mental note to immediately start scavenging these items when he got home. Consider it done. What do you want me to do after I’ve collected all of these items?

Crooked fingers snapped and with it a creature with long ears and a large, sharp nose emerged from the shadowy corners of the cave. “You called, Mistress?” A raspy voice said. My House Elf, Norry, shall retrieve the aforementioned items for me. You have until the second moon. You shall venture to your closest graveyard and lie these items at the tomb of Celeste Moreau. If you are late, you shall feel my ire, Wizard. Now leave! You got work to do.

With that JP couldn’t utter another word before he got teleported out of the cave and found himself no less than 10 meters away from his front door. In the coming days the Frenchman desperately searched and collected all of these, rather peculiar, items and dropped them off on the second moon at the tomb of Celeste Moreau. There he waited for hours until finally a small creature appeared out of thin air.

With the snap of his fingers the items disappeared, to the old crone’s location, which one could guess. “With that out of the way, here is something for you.” The House Elf’s long fingers reached inside a pocket and withdrew an old, dusty, thick book that looked worn down through ages of use. The parchment of the book contained staines and had a yellowy look that reminded JP of the crone’s teeth. The pages were as fragile that the faintest touch might let it evaporate. The second gift JP received was a vial, which contained a thick, black liquid. “The Mistress told me to hand this to you. She will now cast a spell where your wife’s barren waste of a womb, shall be as luscious and conceivable as that of a young maiden.”

The insult set off JP before he could think he pulled out his wand and casted Bombarda at where the House Elf stood. As soon as the smoke and dust cleared the House Elf reappeared, unharmed and a wicked smile adorned its greyish-black face as he patted the dust of his clothing. “The items the Mistress so graciously gave you are to be used once the children are born. Consider it a… Favor for services rendered.” With that another snap was heard and JP found himself alone in the dark and gloomy graveyard.

He remembered the meeting as clear as day as he put down the book on the table next to his wife whilst flicking franctically through its pages until he had found what he was looking for. JP tilted Claire’s head and poured the mysterious liquid down her throat. After that he made a peculiar wand movement and muttered the incantation under his breath that had been written in some long dead and forgotten language. Jean-Papi heard in his mind the old crone’s voice saying the exact same incantation as he was in that moment. Immediately he knew something bad was going to happen. Suddenly the door blew open causing the window shuts to clatter and the windows themselves broke. A shriek emanated from where Claire was lying and suddenly a figure erupted from her chest. A zombie like creature with a green tinged skin color and pitch black hair dropping to the floor.

This was not what JP had expected. He had wanted his wife to rise from the dead, not become this monstrosity! What have I done?! As he spoke the Banshee locked eyes with him and screamed so loudly JP almost fell unconscious. He pointed his wand at the Banshee and spoke: Lumos! Hoping to blind his target whilst running towards the crib and taking his son and daughter in his arms. When he got his son he ran out of the door with the sound of screams running through his head.

A few days later

Nothing had been the same after that night. Nothing felt right since she had changed. Jean-Papi hadn’t merely lost the love of his life that day. No, far worse. Claire had been twisted and turned into an atrocity. Something he couldn’t completely fathom and most certainly did not recognise. That day she had been turned into a Banshee. After he had barely escaped with his children clutched in his arms he had dropped them off at Château Dupont. Everything after that felt like a hase. He didn’t realise where he was until someone called him by his name. It was Baptiste, a colleague of his. It seemed he had stumbled in the Ministry of Magic. Jean-Papi realised what his unconscious mind was trying to do and so he had a mission. Quickly blazing past Baptiste, he followed the way towards his office. Once there his path took him towards his bookcase, long fingers searched and an aha escaped him as he found what he was searching for. Plopping down in his chair he skimmed through the book until he had reached the chapter he sought. “Spirits and the likes, everything you need to know about them”. It was his fault that Claire now was this ‘thing’. He couldn’t bear to revisit the place. But that wouldn’t stop him from learning and reading on how to vanquish, defeat or best any other kind of races. The Frenchman would make it his life goal to protect innocent bystanders from any threatening creatures. Especially… Hags…

Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Fearless (WC: 1372)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Reducio

Jean-Papi was a man who didn't fear much. Because of his years working as an auror he had seen a lot. Things that were worrying and truly horrifying, but he had become numb to most of it. He wasn’t as appalled as he had been the first time. He has seen men, even some great men, succumb to power and hold on to some twisted sense of morals in an effort to make up for their grave transgressions. JP had seen some of the worst humankind could do to one another. These experiences had shaken him to his core the first couple of times, but now? Now, it was just something he grew accustomed to. The French man had gone through sleepless nights trying to find an explanation for any of it. To make some sense of the senselessness, but alas. In the end he had learned life didn’t hold all the answers and there were only two ways on how to deal with it. Either you try to find the answers and get mad in the process or you simply accept there are things you couldn’t possibly comprehend no matter how hard you tried. JP chose the latter.

There was, however, one thing he feared the most. His wife, Claire de Bois. There are more husbands out there that feared the wrath of their spouse, but Claire wasn’t like others. What made her such an unique case was the fact that she had been deceased and had come back as a Banshee of all things. Since that day he had never returned to where she lingered. The thought alone was already too much to bear as it was him who was to blame for her death. The choice wasn’t his, however. Tried as he might to bury his head in the sand of what had happened that day he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Jean-Papi had started to get dreams about his wife calling to him saying she needs him, reaching out her hand as in a faint hope of pulling him inside the windmill she had died. Each time he tried to grasp her hand, her face would twist and turn in that of a heinous monstrosity and she would lunge to attack him. At that moment he always woke up bathing in sweat. Only yesterday his children had woken up from him screaming her name. That was the moment he had decided this vicious cycle couldn’t be ignored any longer. He had to face his fears and it had to be now.

Two days after the dream he had arrived back in France. As he neared the windmill mixed feelings stirred within the gentleman’s gut. Memories of happiness, joy and love assailed him but soon those were washed away with the memory of that dreadful night and most definitely… That vicious hag… Lost in thought it had seemed he hadn’t moved an inch closer to the door. The man stood there maybe three paces from the front door. It's an easy action to undertake, you just move your feet three more times, yet at that moment in time nothing in the world could convince him to take a step any closer. To make a step closer to his greatest failure, to his love, to his… Everything. His throat clenched, mouth dried, sweat started to form on the man’s brow. Fear had him pinned to the ground. Oh what he wouldn’t give at this moment in time to face a troll, dementor, dark wizard, literally anything, but… What? What should he call the woman he had adored, loved, worshiped the ground she had walked on yet had become something that wasn’t any of those things any longer? Instead she had turned into something twisted and foul. Him and him alone was to blame. Yes, the Hag had been the one to instigate all of it and without her it might not have happened, but that didn’t take away the fact that he and he alone had sought her out in the first place. JP, could have been happy. Just them, just the two of them being who and what they were… Yet it hadn’t been enough for him then. His kids were growing older. It wouldn’t be long before they’d start asking more questions about the void their mother had left. And Merlin’s beard forbid the day that they would decide to seek her out. So, he had to do this. He balled his hands into fists to strengthen himself. As he took the three steps towards the door and pushed the handle down the door slowly swung open and made a creaking sound as it made his arch.

Years had passed since he had last stepped foot in this place. In a single glance he had noticed everything was still the same since the night he had fled with his children in his arms. Fled from the mother of his children. He shook his head as he tried to talk some courage to himself.

“You can do it, Dupont. Chin up and face your fears. You’ve faced far worse in your years!”

Did he? Had he really faced worse than his deceased wife? Time would tell. Suddenly he noticed Claire’s favorite chair moving. As he took out his wand from the wand holder inside his jacket he made his way inside. “Lumos.” The tip of the wand lit a light and slowly the rays filled the room. A chair that was turned over in the left corner of the room, a sturdy, oaken armoire stood against the wall. Rummaging came from inside, as he neared it he took a deep breath. Left hand disappeared in his jacket pocket and fingertips touched glass. Gripping it tightly, yet carefully enough he wouldn’t shatter it he procured the item. His right, who held his wand, gripped the handle and swung it open. Prepared to face the worst he stood eye in eye with a group of rats. They peeped as they ran out of the armoire and disappeared in the nearest creak in the floorboards. “Merde!” The Frenchman muttered under his breath, the wand illuminating the rest of the room as he aimed it somewhere else. As he got in the living room he noticed a chair. To most it wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, yet to him it was. Claire’s favourite chair where she had sat down many times to relax after a long day, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Suddenly a sound came from behind him. “Claire, ma cherie, I’m home…” His breath stocked as suddenly a figure stood right before him. Long black hair that shielded parts of her face, a green-tinged skin, but the thing that he recognised immediately were those grey eyes he had fallen in love with and then… Jean-Papi woke up. Eyes opened slowly and it felt like he was hit with a bombarda. Suddenly realising where he was he immediately jumped up with his wand in his hand. Feeling once again in his jacket pocket to find the glass phial he had carried with him. It wasn’t there. As he scanned the room he suddenly noticed that next to Claire’s chair the phial lied there. Shattered pieces littered it. “I-I did it.” Relief surged over him and he let out a sigh, yet a single tear seemed to make its way down his cheek. Most people only had to experience losing the woman they love once, although Claire wasn’t exactly herself, he had lost her all over again. The wound that was slowly healing over time ripped right open again. Walking out he slowly closed the door behind him and threw one last look before closing the door forever. A chapter was closed as he closed the door of the windmill. Returning to Switzerland to study in the abbey, the Healing Arts. Jean wanted to learn how to heal and fix things as he felt this was his way to make up for the pain and suffering he had not only caused himself, but also his kids and father in law. Yet one month after the encounter he screamed. Eyes wide with fear, bathing in cold sweat. “Claire…” He whispered.

Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Healing Sage (WC: 417)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Reducio

As Jean-Papi woke up bathing in his own sweat from another sleepless night of dreaming about his deceased wife he noticed the time. 10:47 am. “Merde!”, he proclaimed. “I overslept again. Hopefully the abbot will be more forgiven this time.” He knew it was a faint hope. The abbot was a strict man. He hated people who overslept. Why? If JP recalled correctly it was something about God and that he hadn’t created day and night to just let it go to waste by laying in bed. No matter what excuses you could conjure up. So, the French man quickly jumped out of bed, put on some clothes and left his chambers to find the abbot in the medical wing of the abbey where he was tending to some of the other monks and travelers who required his aid muggles, wizards and witches alike and JP had the honor of helping him heal the wounded first hand. It was quite the learning curve. As he had never bothered to look into it more in depth and back in Beauxbatons he hadn’t paid attention to what the professor had said. The abbott eagerly took him under his wing and had decided to teach him as much about muggle remedies as magical ones.

“Ah, Jean-Papi, overslept… Again?”, the sturdy bald man spoke to the French man without turning around to look at him. “And don’t you dare sigh at me young man.”

It was quite odd to hear himself getting addressed as a young man, but seeing as the abbot was in fact more than twice his age it was only fitting. “Yes, abbott.”

“The Sleeping Draught I concocted for you doesn’t work?”

“It would seem not, abbott.”

The abbott merely shook his head. “Then make yourself useful and bring me some of those bandages that are near you and start preparing some burn-healing paste seeing as we’re low on that.”

Jean immediately went to collect some of the ingredients needed to prepare for the paste. After he had prepared said paste he needed to help with the abbott on his rounds as he saw some of his daily patients. Some required only an ointment or potion, but others required more attention to see what potion or spell could help them out.

Once the rounds were finished JP would have to go to the abbey’s vast and extensive library to study the more theoretical part of healing which the abbott quizzed him about during their rounds the next day.

Stats:
Stamina: 13
Evasion: 12
Strength: 2
Wisdom: 16
ArcPower: 15
Accuracy: 12