• Stamina: 5
• Evasion: 6
• Strength: 5
• Wisdom: 7
• Arcane Power: 7
• Accuracy: 5

STATUS: Approved

Link to your encyclopedia thread: page

Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: 's Grace

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

~Elsian has always been tricky to track down. He's constantly moving around and even the people he's closest to can have a hard time finding his latest snooze spot since he's always finding new ones to hide away at. This has been the case for as long as he can remember, practically beginning the moment he was old enough to understand that, wait a second, no, he didn't like this maid or this class is really boring, why was he here when he could be doing something else?

From climbing up trees to some how clawing himself up that one really tall roof because wow, that's a good napping place, Elsian did it all. Consequences be dammed. Sure, he almost got a broken arm once or twice when he was first learning how to climb and keep his balance but did that stop him? No. No it did not, if anything it only fueled his spite to get wherever he wanted to go, balance, height or danger factor be damned because if he had a hard time that meant it was a good hiding spot. With all the running around he did and with each failure he only got better as time passed and he got older, this only became a stronger truth when he was put into etiquette lessons and such like dancing. His grace and agility improving quite a bit with every lesson. Which in turn, to the households dismay, made him that much harder to try and wrangle in.

Over time, the uses for these skills only grew as he was forced into the den of social puranas that made up some of the higher status pure blood families because of his family name. Finding spots to maybe take a nap or avoid his history tutor quickly turned into him quietly observing which in turn, became an increasingly dangerous game of him shadowing people when he realized that he could actually figure out if people were being genuine or fake towards him and his parents. Taking great joy in making the suckers who he knew were full of it squirm because if he had to be here then he'd enjoy it.

Enter his more recent years and going into Hogwarts, Elsian loves picking at others thoughts. Finding out things about them whether it be through talking or if needed, digging around. Finding himself places to bunker down to be alone or hide from others is something that's just carried on from his home over to Hogwarts. Watching friends and possible enemies or rivals alike is something he views as if not necessary, an amusing past time and is constantly doing so. If he finds something that draws his attention or seems like a problem for him he'll do whatever he can to dig up the facts, even if it comes down to having to play dirty and spy. As long as he doesn't get caught that is.

Word Count-491

Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
Total-35 | Sta:7  | Ev:6  | Str:1 | Wis:6  | Arc:8  | Acc:7

STATUS: Approved

Encyclopedia thread: John Wolfe
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Charmer
Describe why this fits your character:

Growing up Pureblood involved a lot of training. Keeping to tradition the Wolfe family continued to raise their offspring as proper members of the Wizarding World. All of the children were told from a young act just how to act and hold themselves. Everything from clothing to eating, what to say and how to react was taught on a daily basis. There was never a time that John could recall where his parents weren't giving him some sort of education as a Pureblood. Learning to properly do up his tie at the same time he learned to tie shoes, when he didn't have his family's help doing it for him that is.
It became routine and second nature even to choose specific color coordinated outfits, his clothing behind specially tailored for him as he grew. At 11 years old John knows just how to dress himself and what sort of shirt best compliments a jacket, what tails to wear for fancy dinners or coat goes best with a Brunch gathering. Something that he had ended up learning to enjoy and take pride in.


Through the years it became in innate part of John's personality. He carried himself in a way that others didn't. No slouching, shoulders square and chin up. Never looking down and always being sure to give a proper handshake with some umph behind it. The Wolfe family had done a good job raising their children even if it meant they were so molded and melded into what the family expected that they had no sense of self. John could hold his own in conversation with adults at a young age and often it was expected of him to help glean information for his father's use, charming his way into anyone's good graces. Words easily became an art form for the young German boy. Made to socialize from a very young age, serving tea and other sweets at his mother's hosted gatherings with her ladies as well as engaging in conversation with his father's business partners. It was more than being told what to say but his keen observation through the years that allowed him to have an understanding of how to respond, tones and inflections of voice, just the right turn of phrase to use at the exact moment to steer a conversation in the way he wanted. John could identify the exact way to address anyone, especially women having spent a good deal of time with them thanks to his mother's parties. It had become so natural that often his parents had to rotate out nannies and Governesses as the boy often sweet talked his way into anything he wanted from extra snacks, staying up late, or breaking them from their dutiful facade as the family's help usually resulting in their termination from the Wolfe household.

In Wales, his parents set a strict schedule of studying and other hobbies to make the boy a well rounded member of proper society. They quickly found he was admired by those his age and realized he would find friends easily among the common folk that resided around their second home. This was not something they wanted as they felt John was too far above in station. Secluding him from the other children meant he mostly interacted with Pureblood families many of which were adults, enabling him to pick up on their socializing skills and emulate their ways. Hogwarts would be no different, even if he found himself faltering in staying true to his Pureblood outlook on others and their blood-status, John found himself easily chatting with those around him. Conversation always developing as easy as breathing. Clothes nicely kept and ironed, collar smoothed and hair combed in a clean fashion with some stray strands sweeping over his face now and again, emerald eyes bright and observant, John would relish this new experience of Hogwarts.

Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
I would be keeping my stats the same as they are listed now;
Stamina:     6
Evasion:    6
Strength:    8
Wisdom:    5
ArcPower:  6
Accuracy:  4

Status: Approved 

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

Percival was taught not to be afraid of the unknown ever since he was born, something of which his parents made sure of. They didn't want their child to show weakness in the face of fear or uncertainty, a trait they believed would help him through his life as he grew wiser and independent. Before him, their parents had shared the same strict upbringing and was given the same restrictive upbringing as they did, so it was only right to do the right thing and continue the tradition. One example of this trait would be when he was the age of 10, one year before he started his journey at Hogwarts.

It was a bleak morning on the Gray estate, the sky was grey and the area around them was foggy, something of which wasn't perfect for what they were going to do. Him and his father were out in the garden, both wearing thin coats and regular clothing as they walked across the well kept grass "Even a crap day is good for learning son, remember that" he said as he looked to his side, making sure Percival got the message. In reply, he nodded slowly, his eyes staring determinedly in front of him. Today, they were going on their daily broom ride around the countryside of St. Ives. The scenery was perfect for training due to the remoteness and the slim chance of seeing any muggles around, although, the weather could get a bit wild now and then.

On the grass, lay two broomsticks. Both of them seemed to be well maintained and looked after, you could even say down to the smallest smudge. They belonged to his father Elias, who allowed his son to borrow one of them for training purposes. One other condition was that he had to look after and maintain it himself, otherwise he wasn't worthy of having one. Back in his Hogwarts days, Elias was a talented broom rider. Even before he arrived at Hogwarts he already knew the basics of riding and excelled in most of his flying lessons. During his second year Slytherin were amendment in getting him started for the quidditch team, mainly as a seeker due to his good hawk like eyesight and terrific control of his broom. However, every time they asked he refused. Percival never knew the reason why, maybe he was dead set on what he wanted to do in life and didn't want to take a different path.

Father and son now stood over the brooms, one hand above the handle as percival shouted "Up!" in a clear and loud voice. The broom instantly shot up into his hand, letting him prepare as his father did the same “You know the drill Percy, keep close behind me and if you get lost try and make your way back here. You got that?"Elias questions, making sure Percival got the plan "Yes sir..." he said back to him, his eyes gazing down to the broom under him. After a few seconds his father would slowly lift off the ground, his broom lifting him upwards higher into the air by each second. Not long after Percy would follow suit, but more slower and careful compared to his father who had way more experience than him.

The two of them get to a reasonable height and zoom forwards into the fog, his father going a decent speed in front of him. For now, the boy was following his father with ease and kept a steady pace behind him. Although, it wouldn't last long. It was almost as if someone had flicked a switch to turn up the wind, because the weather changed drastically in a matter of seconds. First, it was the rain. Heavy downpours smacked into the side of them out of the blue, forcing them both to stop in their tracks. His father shouted over the whistling wind to start making his way back to the house. Elias quickly went in front and slowly began to guide him back, the heavy rain and wind blowing into their bodies forcefully. Suddenly, something forced his broom to the right and almost flinged him off, leaving him dangling on the side with one hand and arm on the broom. He quickly flung himself back into the right position and looked around, but all around him was a layer of fog and rain.

At this point he was soaked to the bone, and shivering from the cold rain that hit his body. Percy slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and remember what his father said. He knew it was going to be hard finding his way back in these conditions, all he could do was try and hope for the best. There was no point waiting and depending on his father, if he kept to the plan he would be at the house. Percival drifted along the sky at a slow pace and guided himself to a lower altitude, his eyes squinting rapidly from the droplets that hit it. Ten minutes went by and he still couldn’t find no trace. His hands were numb and he couldn’t hang onto the broom much longer, as well as his will to stay awake.

But to his luck, a light appeared no too far below him through the fog. With no other options left he spiralled downwards towards the light, full well knowing it was his only option right now. Even though the harsh conditions didn’t let up, the fog seemed to disperse as he grew closer to the surface. To his joy, the mansion was finally in view as he tried to get there as soon as possible before he inevitably fell off. Just as he reached the gardens he felt his grip go, leaving him to crash and roll along the grass. His face and clothing was covered in wet mud and various other muck as he finally came to a standstill. Luckily, him and his broom landed in one piece at least, but his pricey clothing was a different story. He breathed in and out and struggled to get into a standing position, mainly because his legs felt like jelly and his body was on the verge of shutting down. Percy stumbled over to the broom and grabbed it, before dragging himself to the back of the house.

Just before he reached the door Elias  slowly opened it from the inside and stepped out, looking at him up and down as Percy stood in the rain with his head down. His father sighed and walked out to him, putting a dry towel over him and walking him inside “Once you’ve dried off and sorted yourself out make sure that broom is spotless. Other then that, I’m proud of you son...” he said in his usual serious tone. A praise off his father wasn’t common by any means, and required him to do something extraordinary to get one. But one question led to another, did he mean it to go this way in order to test him or was it just him being his normal self? One thing was for certain though, he was sure to learn from this experience greatly.

STATUS: Approved

Link to Encyclopedia Thread: Persephone Barret
Name of Ability You Are Applying For: Fearless
Describe Why This Fits Your Character [WC: 722]: 

Reducio

Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, in muggle households. Perhaps more magical myths in wizard-born ones. Stories reiterated to your child, perhaps meant to soothe them into slumber or to teach them a valuable lesson, to avoid the dark witch or defy your controlling step-mother. An impressionable Persephone Barret, however, was narrated a different tale, one of betrayal, romance, but mostly one told by fear. A story with more truth, laced with meanings and messages meant to prevent the young witch from morphing into a woman not unlike her mother. When referred to, they liked to call it ‘Hystérique.’

Hystérique was the tale of a pure-blood witch whom was unfairly arranged to marry an unfamiliar man, her family driven entirely by the wild yearning for the family name to thrive on through their only child, a timid girl. She lived a life of lies, sewn together in elegant gowns and graceful bows to hold together all the facades that completed the puzzle of the hollow witch. Although her family wasn’t incredibly wealthy, it took a single glance at Amelia Cooper to denote the legacy as arrogant and shallow, far from the truth of a rather sensitive witch.

It would never have taken much to overpower the dictatorship of her parents. The easiest solution was the door, a magnificent white one that opened to the steps, leading to the walkway, leading to the ultimate destination of out of the Cooper household. Amelia was never tied up, chained to her bed, behind a locked door, no. Her parents rather encouraged her to go out and about, mingle amongst the ordinary to remind herself of her superiority, as the endless galaxy was a bewitching creation beyond the understanding of the human eye. It was a single step that lead to another, taking her safely away from the confines of a toxic home.

But in a way, a rather unpleasant one, Amelia was confined to her great house. It wasn’t the dinner on the table or the glory of paid bills that secured her here, but the straitjacket known as fear that rendered her immobile, meant to endure the torture of a premeditated life right up until her untimely death that would never come. The terror was paralyzing, a curse that was virtually unbreakable until the end of their tale, wrapped up in a heavenly cliche with the bow of romance sitting on top, enchanting the eye of the passerby with the promise of a happy ending. According to Persephone’s aged mother, their story ended flawlessly; the young witch escaped her family into the arms of a fellow pureblood.

Foolish, it was, to believe such fables. Through the years of human life, plagues would come and go, vanishing from sight in such a way that left the world spiritual. A miracle! they called it, so innocent and ignorant. Precious. The disease of fear was no different; it would return with a vengeance exceeding the last.

And when it did, not a single soul was spared from it’s venomous touch. Persephone’s jubilant father succumbed to the pressure in his lungs, giving himself away to the habits and comfort of unethical coping skills. Her mother, unwilling to practice what she had preached since day one, fled from the weight of all the lies she lived. Persy, though, remained physically immune to the disease of terror. There was no denial that grey melancholy swallowed her, wiping her personality slate clean and refreshing it with that of a true cracked persona, but the blonde was unafraid. Fear, as she had been informed for so many wasted years, was an optional emotion, one that could become your character if you were to give into its coercion. Intimidation was a way to be manipulated, and being exploited in such a deceitful way was something Persephone would never do.

As the days wore on, the sickness only spreading, Persephone remained untouched by its radioactivity, often dancing along the line of bravery and stupidity, traits that often merged into a death wish as one stared in the soul of danger, unblinking. At least, when the girl did as she wished, horror being no factor in her actions, she began to feel something. Adrenaline, perhaps.

That was so much better than cowering in a corner.

Fear would not devour her. She would not become her mother.

Reducio

Hystérique is French for 'Hysterical'.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stats:
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 4
Strength: 5
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 5
Accuracy: 6

Status: Approved

Link to your encyclopedia thread: link
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: wandmaker
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):

Reducio

Hazel could never pretend to even remotely grasp the concept of the wizarding world. There were too many things to question: did it function like the humans’ world? Was there a prison system? Was there a wizard college? Did servers exist in restaurants, or did they simply float things over to you? Too many of her questions would burn in the back of her head.

What Hazel would come to realize about her strange new home - and about the enchanted world, really - is that it was all about feeling. Everything was about intuition and the pull in your gut; the wrong brush of air against your skin, the wrong sound in your ears. She learned that magic was not something logical - that it could not be commanded. It wasn’t an equation, because even if she said the incantation correctly, she might not get the outcome she wanted.

Therefore, Hazel began to think of magic as its own, self-sufficient being. As if it were something they couldn’t control, but had to work alongside. Magic was not buzzing at her fingertips; it was alive inside of her. And this, perhaps, was the greatest revelation she could have at age eleven.

The moment she had gotten her wand at Olivanders, she hadn’t particularly questioned it. She had very little reason to, after all. Olivander seemed convinced that her wand was perfect for her. And of course, in truth, Hazel had been beside herself with joy over the fact she had a whippy stick to fling magic from. But the longer she had it, the more she held it and fiddled with it, the more angry it seemed to become.

Or perhaps anger wasn’t the correct word. Idle frustration might fit better. It seemed bored; it seemed irritated. Hazel wasn’t particularly confident with her magical abilities, even well into the second semester of school. It was still foreign to her. The wand seemed to resent this and her hesitance - to the point where Hazel felt as if she might be scared of it. She could talk to herself, late at night, thinking that somewhere, deep down, it felt right; the grip of the wood, the power behind the core.

And Hazel stayed that way for the longest time, frightened of her own wand and that it might backfire one day in retaliation. As far as she knew, that could be as powerful as a muggle bomb, not just a backwards hex. (Hence her lack of grasp on the wizarding world concept.) She’d stopped fiddling with it like one might stop telling a best friend their closest secrets; she’d grip it harder and practically yell incantations because she felt that was what it wanted. On several occasions, she’d assumed it was just her. That she was a failure, or her magic wasn’t strong enough, or that it was because she was raised in the muggle world.

Then something new knocked her on the head one day.

Literally, something new: it was during lunch that Hazel decided she wasn’t hungry enough to eat - something that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. So she wandered just outside the castle with her sketchbook, hoping to sketch a pretty piece of scenery. There was a flock of owls heading towards the castle - Must be time for the mail, she hummed under her breath, absently taking note of the gamekeeper’s cabin down the path. She liked how it looked; always had. So she began with a sketch of that (a shoddy sketch, but whatever) and paid no mind to the owl streaking towards her.

Just like that, there was a poorly-aimed parcel whacking her in the head; something that made Hazel yelp and skitter in her fright. As much as she adored owls, she couldn’t help but send this particular avian a scowl. It didn’t seem to care.

Hazel crouched down to inspect the package. It was a box; long and thin and lightweight, she discovered. It didn’t seem particularly special - paper wrappings and string ties. Hazel frowned, wondering who in the magical world wanted to send her a package.

Unwrapping it, she found a slender box - and inside, neatly folded tissue paper. Resting on the paper was a...wand? An auburn color, it was beautifully carved. There was a certain worn aspect to it, as though it had been used before; and Hazel could only imagine how soft it must be. But first, she was to read the piece of parchment that accompanied it:

Dear Hazel Elise Caelum,

This was your mother’s wand. It is 27.7 centimeters with pear wood and unicorn hair. Her wish was to give this to you when you turned 11, though I can imagine she didn’t remember that first years are given a wand at Olivanders as a bloody requirement.

There are a few of us who keep tabs on you, believe it or not. We’ve watched you grow up into a fine lass. When you’re a little older, we’ll give you the key to your parents’ vault.

Tread carefully in the magical world, Hazel. It’s not what you’re used to.

x.

Hazel sat back, staring at the box and its contents. She’d always longed to meet her mother - she’d dreamt of soft voices and fuzzy, fuzzy faces that accompanied a warm sensation. She’d also dreamt of tears and wet skin, of quiet mumbled words and blurry figures. For most of her childhood, Hazel would daydream of her parents, wondering what they looked like and how they acted. As with a lot of foster children, she often wondered if she was good enough; if they left her because she was flawed in some way.

But in reading this note, Hazel felt an odd sense of satisfaction click. Upon stepping into the wizarding world originally, she had thought this must be the reason they didn’t want me. A freaky magic incident could have any human parent discarding their child relatively soon, in her opinion. But now, knowing her parents were magic as well...explained some things.

Hazel picked up her mother’s wand; ran her fingers along the soft, worn wood, and thought about what spells the wand had cast in its time.

word count: 1034 words
Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
Stamina: 6
Evasion: 7
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 5
ArcPower: 6
Accuracy: 7

Status: On Hold. Ability approved but wand lore is being written so this ability is still in the works - 24th April.

Link to your Encyclopedia thread: Link here
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Seer
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): (807 words)

Reducio

The tale of Euphaustus’ life is rather strange. But these kinds of words, alliterations, are the perfect description of the boy’s life. Weird, unnatural, odd and creepy. It all started with his birth. The boy, like many other children in the world, was brought through the love of two people. His mother, Nina Boppity, and his unknown father. The question of the identity of his father has always been a mystery; so was it really love that brought the two together? A question Nina never answered, or ever brought up. Her uninterest in the matter was soon passed down to her son, seeing as he’s not curious to know who his father is… especially after he was told that he was a… centaur.

Unbelievable at first, it all started to make sense. The slightly pointy ears, the pale white skin, thin legs, the magic. Nina possessed none of these traits, so they had to come from somewhere, right? Given her blood status of a muggle, it was very curious indeed to believe she had any connections with the magical world - she didn’t actually have any. But the man, creature, being - who fathered Euphaustus, was everything of the above. But nonetheless, the consideration of his mother being not in the right state of mind to come up with such explanations had to be taken. Nina was no usual woman. Her whole life is a lie - even her job as a fortune teller, or rather, scammer.

She found peace in talking to herself, wearing robes, as if she was a witch - which she was not. In other words, she was obsessed, addicted to magic. She knew it existed, thanks to her previous relation, never forgotten. But the poor soul could not perform it herself. She thought it would be possible to become one after so long. She still does to this very day. The man she loved was a wizard. This information was soon clarified after they had been together for more than half a year. This was when things started to go downhill for the woman. She was jealous, started to annoy her loved one with crazy ideas to the point where things started to get dangerous. Rituals found on the so-called muggle webs. Blasphemies. The father knew that these were nothing but made-up activities.

She stopped, for a while, then she was with child.

Hoping that the father’s magical gene was strong, Nina desired for her child to be born magical. And her wish came true. However, one would ideally want for both parents to actively take care of the child. But Nina continued her oblivious, empty research nonetheless. Denied every idea of herself not being a witch to be untrue, until it soon came to no use to offer help, and Euphaustus’ father, left. This had impacted Nina harshly and stopped doing what had ruined her life, but her late decision was of no use.

Long-story-short is, that reality overwhelms the woman’s fantasy. Euphaustus is the child of two human beings, Nina being the muggle, and his father a pure-blood wizard, meaning that the whole centaur story Nina tells her son is a made-up lie, representing her insane manners. However, his father’s side has more essence of magic to it. Unknown to his child, but currently impacting his present life. House Shortsight is a prestigious, pure-blooded family known for its ties with seers. The family’s branches of generations mostly never skip the particular trait, however, Euphaustus’ father, Vermilion is the youngest of nine and the only one who inherited the gene. Making him the only Seer of the family, the last being his grandparents.

Euphaustus who has now started Hogwarts still has no clue on the matter. The only interests he has ever had related to the abilities of a Seer are tarot readings and his mother’s work with Muggle fortune-telling. But, he has had some queer occurrences prior to his arrival at the magical academy. For instance, he had sometimes found himself in places without having an original purpose - until that purpose came to him. Or, even seeing things aligning perfectly, like the outcome of a specific situation of some sort being felt to him before even starting.

One particular flash that turned out to be an actual real happening was that of a cloaked stranger appearing in the boy’s house. The brief encounter only showed himself accepting a letter from the unidentified man. This is a symbolization of what later on happened, where Euphaustus was introduced to the world of magic and Hogwarts. During a tarot reading he had given himself, the Hermit card appeared - the card’s meaning is irrelevant to the event but the man on the card resembled the man in the vision. But this strange happening unfolded nothing but a new magical experience, leaving Euphaustus’ Seer capabilities out of the picture.

Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
Stamina: 4
Evasion: 5
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 6
Accuracy: 5

Status: Approved

Status: Approved

Status: Approved