Avatar of Jig
  • Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
  • Joined: 12 yrs ago
  • Posts: 1286 (0.29 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Jig 12 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

Section #1: Jig Being Right


It has come to my attention, that I am primarily right and drunk.

Jig is completely right.


Jig is right.


[11.01.50] Gowi:

Jig is right. Feel free to send that along.


[Jig is] 100% correct.


Jig was right 8 months ago, and is still right.


I love you, Jig. It's because you're Always Right™.


Once again, Jig is absolutely right about this.


Where is Jig when I need to vent about politics?
Drunk.


The mighty Jig is of course right.


Section #2: Jig's RP's


I'm not post-dating RP's I've been in that died out of nowhere and I've basically forgotten about, so here are my present ones.

Current:

Previous:

Wolf Manor (GM)

Wink Murder (GM)

Project Rehab (Player)

The Kidnapping (Player)

Wink murder: Who Killed Mr. Jig? (GM)

Finite Incantatem (Co-GM)

New Dawn Rising (Player)

Most Recent Posts

My post where?
Soooo, Larry's not going to get involved yet, but he's going to slope in at some point in the near-middling future. >Also, sorry his sheet's a total mess, but I think the swanky new Guild decided the BBCode wasn't good enough. I done fixed it. :') Also, I'm very eager to try out the new Character Sheets tab...
**Name:** “Larry Dale” (Laurence Darville) **Age:** 34 **Gender:** Male **Nationality:** English **Blood Purity:** Pure-Blood **Marked?** Oh good lord, yes **Appearance:** ![enter image description here](http://i60.tinypic.com/10wkwf7.jpg "Larry Dale") **Personality:** Larry is fiercely intelligent, about which there is no doubt. He is both an ideas man and a pragmatic thinker, one who is not caught up on little details but still pays due attention to them. He is somewhat manic, who is incapable of sitting still: even if he’s not doing anything productive, he will still be larking about in some manner or another. Everything he does has an sense of tongue-in-cheek playfulness, which, in the wrong mood, can manifest itself as pure spite. He is relentlessly positive, in the worst and most exploitative ways. Every cloud must have a silver lining, even if he must paint it on himself. If a member of the resistance dies, then Larry will present a martyr: if a Death Eater dies, they are the most crucial key to toppling the regime. While, as a journalist, he reports only facts, he is most definitely guilty of the most appalling spin and editorial bias. Fierce ambition drives him: he works out what he wants and then does whatever it takes to get it. As a politician, he happily trod on people to secure his own position. While he is definitely a risk-taker, though perhaps not as naive as he once was, they are calculated risks, and so does not consider himself a gambler in this regard: if push comes to shove, he saves his own skin, first, and thinks about other things last. He is, in that sense, an appalling egotist, and has come to see himself as something of a political celebrity. Externally, his period under the thrall of the Ministry offers him no grievance. Underneath, however, he still feels a certain amount of, if not guilt, remorse over that period, and, though he considers himself above such things, has something of a thirst for vengeance. **Strengths:** - Stealth and Espionage: Larry has become good at not dying. He has spent the past six years as a lone operative, and has very much learned to take responsibility for his own safety. If anybody is any good at not being noticed, it’s Larry: he also has sources of information to report. - PR: Not hugely helpful to the Ashes, but Larry is something of a PR prodigy. - Will-Power: Larry has developed a very strong resistance to the Imperius Curse due to a four-year period of uninterrupted control, which he has also applied to Occlumency. **Weaknesses:** - Duelling: While Larry is a competent wizard in many fields, he isn’t a particularly accomplished duellist and historically has tackled combat by simply escaping. - Teamwork: Larry is not a team player. **Wand:** 12”, Laburnum, Unicorn Tail Hair **Bio:** Laurence grew up in a very normal, middle-class wizarding family, and got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts as he predicted. While at Hogwarts, he focussed on the humanities rather than magic itself, taking Muggle Studies, the Study of Ancient Runes, History of Magic to NEWT level, along with Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration, doing rather well across the board and being appointed prefect for Ravenclaw House. With an unblemished school record, Laurence’s progression into the Ministry was inevitable and smooth. He was a political beast, who was quickly taken under the wing of a career politician (rather than a civil servant), Amarant Garth, with the two of them rejecting the increasing anti-muggle sentiments publicly. Laurence displayed an innate knack for campaign strategy and proved himself as a PR machine. Despite the best efforts of political opponents and the terror threats from Death Eaters, he was not deterred from writing bitingly critical assessments of the political climate and even managed to bully them into the Prophet (as well as any other respectable publication that would take them). Through his skill and, frankly, underhanded machinations, he cemented his position, despite his youth as Garth’s right-hand man, and, together, they unified whatever anti-Fudge and anti-Voldemort sentiment there was into a decent movement. Unfortunately, the movement wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to block Malfoy’s rise to the throne, and, from there, it was all downhill. The threats against Garth eventually sunk in, and the man bottled it. Lawrence was the only natural successor to Garth’s position as the most overt opponent of the new regime, and took to it with aplomb, if rather less success in the new climate. He remained utterly undiverted from his cause, until, an impressive two years into his tenure, he was diverted in the most thorough way possible. Instead of simply killing him, the Death Eaters had been watching his campaigning for a few years with irritation and interest, and decided to recruit him instead. Lawrence never found out the name of the person that cast the Imperius Curse on him, but, suffice to say, they did an excellent job of it. The narrative for the cursed Laurence was that he was a reasonably well-known political convert: the argument had won him over and he now supported the new direction of the Ministry. The fact he had a NEWT in Muggle Studies was also useful, as he was therefore an ‘expert’ in muggle culture and so the propaganda he was generating was thereby justified. In addition, his information about the anti-Death Eater movement was gradually extracted from him and used to shut down the dregs of the opposition. The curse lasted an extraordinary period of time: for over six years. Inevitably, Laurence began to be able to resist it, and eventually threw it off entirely, and vanished into the night. Despite this ordeal, Laurence’s political fervour was not quelled, though he vowed not to be quite so naive a second time round. With intricate knowledge of the mechanisms by which the regime could catch opponents, he began broadcasting information by radio: where was safe, who had been killed, what the Death Eaters were doing, and how best to fight back - as well as, for the sake of spite, popular muggle music. He’s been doing this for years now, as a lone operative, under a new name. While there are certain trust issues to be had with a former Ministry mouthpiece, he has been rebuilding his reputation and is the most acclaimed and secure broadcasting operative.
2nd December, 1999 – Aldenberg Manor
David Howell


For the past few months, they had been quiet. There had been few leads to go on, since they were unable to know what sources to trust and, David suspected, because they could not face any further losses. The anonymous Death Eater was set to change that, he supposed: the potential for a true, reliable source at the heart of the cancer was a tempting one, and no mistake.

Even Aldenberg had given up the fight for caution, as far as the man could. From the moment the meeting had officially ended, he had abruptly stood up and started making his own contributions, arranging with Kyle what intel they required. David, whose function was less apparent, retreated to his room.

David had been among the Ashes since its very conception, a sort of heirloom passed on from the Order. He had been involved in this war over half his life, now, and he had seen his fair share of the toll. Even the mansion in which they nowadays lived reflected it. Its internal magics created bedrooms for its guests as they were needed according to its own sense of Aldenberg aristocratic logic. The Host, the Infirm, and the Women were provided proper lodgings, and the less-esteemed Everybody Else was to be found off in the East Wing, where Aldenberg had once commented that the house-elves used to reside. Counting their number was as simple as counting the bedroom doors. At one point, David had seen Dhillon’s door melt into the wall in front of his eyes, swallowed up into the house - just hours before Ronan broke the news that he had fallen in battle.

His room was a simple affair, and there was frankly little that could be done with it to improve it. Apart from, perhaps, giving it a good clean: the bed had literally not once been made during David’s tenure, and he had taken to sleeping around the large crystal ball at one end, so as not to have to find somewhere else to store it: the writing desk, the room’s only other real feature, was covered in almost more teacups than it could support, many of them in stacks of six or eight. The others did not trust Divination. He had been asked enough times, especially at Hogwarts, to simply make a prediction, as though the future was written in the sky and plain as day for all those with the right sort of telescope. Needless to say, whenever he tried to explain that it didn’t work like that, awkwardness had ensued.

Still, for all his head’s misgivings, he had a good feeling about their potential source. It was as though there were two possible versions of events, one door leading to good fortune, and the other to ruin, and only the good door was open. Put more simply, he had a good feeling about it. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to tell the others about it. Without some evidence, a good feeling meant little to them, although, to his count, he had been right many more times than he had been wrong. To try to glean a little more, he gazed into the tea leaves of his most recent cup, but couldn’t make out anything out at all beyond dregs in a cup. With a groan, he realised that he was literally predicting the existence of some tea: the rendezvous would be, after all, at a café. Insight wasn’t always especially helpful.

There came a sharp knock at the door. One-two-three. The signature knock of Albert Aldenberg - one didn’t have to be a seer to know he was at the other side. Sure enough, there he was in the corridor, eyes only just visible below the low doorframe.

“Yeeeeeees?”

“You are with me tonight, David. We will observe from a short distance, and if anything is amiss, we cast nothing but shield charms. It will be close quarters and we can’t afford friendly fire. Understood?”

“Yep. Do nothing, hope for the best. If sub-best, we’re on damage limitation.”

“That is not how I would have put it, but yes, in essence. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Be ready.”
Proposing this to speed things up a bit.
All Albert has to add at the minute is "You have my opinion." so if somebody wants to throw that into their own post rather than me giving a limp one-liner, go for it. :)
Jig said
Ladies and gents, some retcon is almost certainly about to take place. I would recommend holding off on posting until it's been sorted.We need to crack the case of the unexpected expected letter and the suddenly irrelevant relevance of Mr. Keiper. xD


Retcon applied. I think we're good.

Go go go.
1st December, 1999 – Aldenberg Manor
Albert Aldenberg


“Excuse me, Jia,” Aldenberg’s voice was slow, and measured, although he stunned the room by speaking so soon into a meeting. His English accent was almost perfect, but a few tonal oddities made him sound simultaneously calm and a little alien. Nevertheless, just behind his beard, a face could be seen that appeared to be sucking on a lemon, instead of its usual stoic frown, “But I’m afraid that this is a Lohengrine Black. Nobody has been communicating outside the official channels with this little chap - Siobhan, would you let him back out, please? Thank you. Lohengrine Blacks are native to these very grounds: they are naturally attracted to the magical history of this place. I expect this one strayed a little too far. This is not a common occurrence, in my experience.”

The door opened: a sheepish David entered with a hurried “excuse me” and took a seat, bringing with him a faint smell of burnt leather. Albert didn’t ask, beyond welcoming him into the room.

“You must remember, my lady, that this manor is protected by numerous enchantments to detect and block magical threats, supervised by all of us. In addition, everybody in this room is equipped with a sneakoscope,” he turned to the room, reminded of previous discussions of a similar nature and of a previous life as a teacher of the incorrigible, “that they have been instructed to keep on their persons at all times. The manor is secure, and, if we take no risks, so are we.

“This telephone,” he continued, saying the term a little unsteadily, “Is a risk. I think I explained to you that the manor does not cooperate with muggle technology - like Hogwarts,” he added, helpfully, to illustrate his point. He picked up and dwarfed the phone with one large hand, gingerly using the other to pry open its screen. With one glance at its unnatural, blue-tinged light, he snapped the thing shut and half-placed, half-dropped it on the table, “We cannot rely on it, and your friends,” he smiled at Tanya and David, without actually opening the floor to them, “Seem to get by without the merits of the telephone, such as they are. Shall we drop this for now?

“As for the letter itself,” Apparently, Aldenberg had indeed decided to drop the matter for now, “This is foolishness. We cannot simply meet an unidentified enemy agent at a location of their choosing on the assumption that there is no ambush waiting for us. Opportunity though it might be, there will be other opportunities. If we meet our anonymous friend, whose letter I note we have not been expecting to my knowledge, there may well be no further opportunities of any kind.”

He paused. He didn’t remember ever having spoken so much at a meeting, but, then, he didn’t remember the last time he had heard a suggestion quite so preposterous.

“As I recall, we were called for a meeting,” he turned to Ronan, “I would suggest that we continue as planned.”
I've about fifteen minutes of being in the Chatzy listening to funky german modern oompah before going to bed. If anybody's about to update me on what I've missed, now is your time to shine.
Ladies and gents, some retcon is almost certainly about to take place. I would recommend holding off on posting until it's been sorted.

We need to crack the case of the unexpected expected letter and the suddenly irrelevant relevance of Mr. Keiper. xD
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet