@roonilxwaslibI think so. Maybe the game should be moved a few years forward, making him at least fourth or fifth year? Him being 11 does not leave much room for anything suspicious or malicious.
Sigurd Member
STATUS: @cleverbird Don't forget to blink either 5 yrs ago- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
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@cleverbird Don't forget to blink either
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What doth life?
6 yrs ago
I don't know where I am going, but I am bound to be late.
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@Lady AvalonCan you give us a hint or two about the story you have planned? :)
@burnski
The Order of the Phoenix did not exist in the 30's. Voldemort is still a 'harmless' teenage student in this RP.
The Order of the Phoenix did not exist in the 30's. Voldemort is still a 'harmless' teenage student in this RP.
Name: Rayner Edward Melville
Age: 12
Year: Second
House: Ravenclaw
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Patronus: Unknown
Appearance:
Relationships:
Brother: Roland Stephen Melville (Sixth year, Slyherin, pictured with the mother - Edith); not on very good terms with him
Sister: Dolores Imogen Melville (Seventh year, Ravenclaw); his greatest role model who greatly influenced his love for books and creativity
Mother: Edith Melville (Pictured next to Roland), who is a pure-blooded witch (Slyherin) employed as a healer in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries where Rayner hopes he can work one day too and become a healer like her (unless he makes it into a Quidditch team!)
Father Aloysius Melville, a muggle teacher and publisher from whom Rayner inherited his love for sports
Friends: TBA
Personality: When it comes to the display of his character Rayner is hard to sort, because he tends to keep to the margins of the social circles at Hogwarts; but in his thoughts and private affairs he is truly a Ravenclaw. He fancies himself to be a creative and conscientious student with a knack for the more ‘open’ and practical disciplines.
Rayner is often very quick to get attached to people who fit into his idea of what an ideal friend/companion should be like, although he does not speak of it often because of his shyness. This shyness is perhaps what prevents him from leaving his comfort zone and actively seeking ‘adventure’ which he greatly longs for and wishes would find him instead.
He is also a fan of sports and enjoys playing them as much as watching them. Unexpectedly to those who think him to be more on the passive side, he is very competitive when it comes to sports and games and he found the discovery of Quidditch one of the most pleasant things that happened to him at Hogwarts, more so than magic itself, and he dreams of playing for the Ravenclaw team one day as much as any other (wizard) boy his age does.
Two of his biggest flaws are: 1) that he is dependent on his sister’s guidance, help and protection more often than he should be – or at least he was during his first year at Hogwarts; and 2) that he can be quite oblivious to how things actually are around the school and in the world at large because he gets so caught up in his vision of how things ought to be that he does not know how to react in face of reality.
Best class: Charms
Worst class: Divination
Any Clubs: Book club, Quidditch
Age: 12
Year: Second
House: Ravenclaw
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Patronus: Unknown
Appearance:
Relationships:
Brother: Roland Stephen Melville (Sixth year, Slyherin, pictured with the mother - Edith); not on very good terms with him
Sister: Dolores Imogen Melville (Seventh year, Ravenclaw); his greatest role model who greatly influenced his love for books and creativity
Mother: Edith Melville (Pictured next to Roland), who is a pure-blooded witch (Slyherin) employed as a healer in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries where Rayner hopes he can work one day too and become a healer like her (unless he makes it into a Quidditch team!)
Father Aloysius Melville, a muggle teacher and publisher from whom Rayner inherited his love for sports
Friends: TBA
Personality: When it comes to the display of his character Rayner is hard to sort, because he tends to keep to the margins of the social circles at Hogwarts; but in his thoughts and private affairs he is truly a Ravenclaw. He fancies himself to be a creative and conscientious student with a knack for the more ‘open’ and practical disciplines.
Rayner is often very quick to get attached to people who fit into his idea of what an ideal friend/companion should be like, although he does not speak of it often because of his shyness. This shyness is perhaps what prevents him from leaving his comfort zone and actively seeking ‘adventure’ which he greatly longs for and wishes would find him instead.
He is also a fan of sports and enjoys playing them as much as watching them. Unexpectedly to those who think him to be more on the passive side, he is very competitive when it comes to sports and games and he found the discovery of Quidditch one of the most pleasant things that happened to him at Hogwarts, more so than magic itself, and he dreams of playing for the Ravenclaw team one day as much as any other (wizard) boy his age does.
Two of his biggest flaws are: 1) that he is dependent on his sister’s guidance, help and protection more often than he should be – or at least he was during his first year at Hogwarts; and 2) that he can be quite oblivious to how things actually are around the school and in the world at large because he gets so caught up in his vision of how things ought to be that he does not know how to react in face of reality.
Best class: Charms
Worst class: Divination
Any Clubs: Book club, Quidditch
Name: Rayner Edward Melville
Age: 12
Year: Second
House: Ravenclaw
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Patronus: Unknown
Appearance:
Relationships:
Brother: Roland Stephen Melville (Sixth year, Slyherin, pictured with the mother - Edith); not on very good terms with him
Sister: Dolores Imogen Melville (Seventh year, Ravenclaw); his greatest role model who greatly influenced his love for books and creativity
Mother: Edith Melville (Pictured next to Roland), who is a pure-blooded witch (Slyherin) employed as a healer in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries where Rayner hopes he can work one day too and become a healer like her (unless he makes it into a Quidditch team!)
Father Aloysius Melville, a muggle teacher and publisher from whom Rayner inherited his love for sports
Friends: TBA
Personality: When it comes to the display of his character Rayner is hard to sort, because he tends to keep to the margins of the social circles at Hogwarts; but in his thoughts and private affairs he is truly a Ravenclaw. He fancies himself to be a creative and conscientious student with a knack for the more ‘open’ and practical disciplines.
Rayner is often very quick to get attached to people who fit into his idea of what an ideal friend/companion should be like, although he does not speak of it often because of his shyness. This shyness is perhaps what prevents him from leaving his comfort zone and actively seeking ‘adventure’ which he greatly longs for and wishes would find him instead.
He is also a fan of sports and enjoys playing them as much as watching them. Unexpectedly to those who think him to be more on the passive side, he is very competitive when it comes to sports and games and he found the discovery of Quidditch one of the most pleasant things that happened to him at Hogwarts, more so than magic itself, and he dreams of playing for the Ravenclaw team one day as much as any other (wizard) boy his age does.
Two of his biggest flaws are: 1) that he is dependent on his sister’s guidance, help and protection more often than he should be – or at least he was during his first year at Hogwarts; and 2) that he can be quite oblivious to how things actually are around the school and in the world at large because he gets so caught up in his vision of how things ought to be that he does not know how to react in face of reality.
Best class: Charms
Worst class: Divination
Any Clubs: Book club, Quidditch
Age: 12
Year: Second
House: Ravenclaw
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Patronus: Unknown
Appearance:
Relationships:
Brother: Roland Stephen Melville (Sixth year, Slyherin, pictured with the mother - Edith); not on very good terms with him
Sister: Dolores Imogen Melville (Seventh year, Ravenclaw); his greatest role model who greatly influenced his love for books and creativity
Mother: Edith Melville (Pictured next to Roland), who is a pure-blooded witch (Slyherin) employed as a healer in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries where Rayner hopes he can work one day too and become a healer like her (unless he makes it into a Quidditch team!)
Father Aloysius Melville, a muggle teacher and publisher from whom Rayner inherited his love for sports
Friends: TBA
Personality: When it comes to the display of his character Rayner is hard to sort, because he tends to keep to the margins of the social circles at Hogwarts; but in his thoughts and private affairs he is truly a Ravenclaw. He fancies himself to be a creative and conscientious student with a knack for the more ‘open’ and practical disciplines.
Rayner is often very quick to get attached to people who fit into his idea of what an ideal friend/companion should be like, although he does not speak of it often because of his shyness. This shyness is perhaps what prevents him from leaving his comfort zone and actively seeking ‘adventure’ which he greatly longs for and wishes would find him instead.
He is also a fan of sports and enjoys playing them as much as watching them. Unexpectedly to those who think him to be more on the passive side, he is very competitive when it comes to sports and games and he found the discovery of Quidditch one of the most pleasant things that happened to him at Hogwarts, more so than magic itself, and he dreams of playing for the Ravenclaw team one day as much as any other (wizard) boy his age does.
Two of his biggest flaws are: 1) that he is dependent on his sister’s guidance, help and protection more often than he should be – or at least he was during his first year at Hogwarts; and 2) that he can be quite oblivious to how things actually are around the school and in the world at large because he gets so caught up in his vision of how things ought to be that he does not know how to react in face of reality.
Best class: Charms
Worst class: Divination
Any Clubs: Book club, Quidditch
Sorted the players into houses?
Yeah, that's what I meant. Not necessary, but I thought it would be a nice element of surprise/anxiety.
I will make a character today!
Hello.
It would be fun if the GM sorted the players out. I'm talking about the Houses.
It would be fun if the GM sorted the players out. I'm talking about the Houses.
Got room for one more? :)
There's also the Study of Ancient Runes, no one mentioned that one. :-)
Thorstein sat in the tent and greedily drank warm water from the skin, because he'd spent the entire day pitching the damned thing and cursing it. The weather did not look promising. The ground itself promised only to be troublesome in case of any battle, because of how damp the soil was, and precisely because of that it had taken a while for Thorstein and a few others to find a suitable spot and pitch the tent, because the pegs would not stick, and their feet kept slipping. Thorstein wished he had a bow and arrows: that seemed much more fun than drowning each other in mud in the front of the shield wall. But then again, he didn't even have a shield either.
Thorstein kept refreshing himself and looking out through the opening in the canvas. The chieftains had mostly finished setting up their booths and tents, however improvised, and groups here and there had already began conversing about what is to be done; but most of the warriors kept scouting the grounds and stalking the woods in the ever growing darkness. He saw Ivar just a stone’s throw away casually, one would say cheerfully sharpening his shiny knives with a whetstone while his slave cleaned his chain armor right next to him. What a lunatic. He probably doesn't care about any plans or strategies: he's just here to go in, attack those on the opposite side and get back. And he’s already whistling his annoying tunes like he did when he was a child.
Finishing his stanza, Ivar disappeared into his tent. Thorstein spat, grabbed his axe, walked out and went to look around for himself, hoping to find something tasty in the woods if it wasn't too late in the day for that. But some hunters had already beaten him to it, however. He saw a group of them carrying a couple of deer strung up on poles much to the cheering of their friends. Ah, screw it. I’ll just eat cheese. This turned his mind away from any hunting expeditions. I think I should find something better to do, or at least find someone important to give me a quick briefing. It can’t be too long before we move.
Meanwhile, Ivar was mumbling in his tent in front of a table on which he was casting his runes. He knew no real magic, but he was well versed in poetry and convinced the rune lots showed at least a grain of truth no matter who should cast them, that being their divine nature. He knelt before the table and looked at the wooden Asa-Thor figurine in front of which a small fire was burning.
‘Baldrs brother, troll-wives’ bane, you in whose head Hrungnir’s whetstone stands,listen to me, Ivar: sharpen my weapons, and give me strength against these your English enemies, and I swear a better ox will never be sacrificed to you than the one I have prepared brought over all the way across the sea.’
He got up and put the runes in the cup. He closed the opening with his hand and shook it. 'Come on, Allfather: show me what is to happen tomorrow or be damned, you stirrer up of strife!' The lots fell onto the table:
'Three runes for the three sisters. Three for the three Norns. The ox is the first, it will give us strength in arms over the foe. There will be battle as Thorn has appeared second: giants' work for sure. But the last one... Hail. Hel's rune, curse her! A storm? A flood? Drowning? She's going to take many to her halls soon. A calamity for sure. What am I to make of this? Some disaster is at hand too. But for whom?'
Thorstein kept refreshing himself and looking out through the opening in the canvas. The chieftains had mostly finished setting up their booths and tents, however improvised, and groups here and there had already began conversing about what is to be done; but most of the warriors kept scouting the grounds and stalking the woods in the ever growing darkness. He saw Ivar just a stone’s throw away casually, one would say cheerfully sharpening his shiny knives with a whetstone while his slave cleaned his chain armor right next to him. What a lunatic. He probably doesn't care about any plans or strategies: he's just here to go in, attack those on the opposite side and get back. And he’s already whistling his annoying tunes like he did when he was a child.
Fair are the hills,
Heaths a-blooming;
And a stunning maid,
Strolling towards me.
Heaths a-blooming;
And a stunning maid,
Strolling towards me.
Finishing his stanza, Ivar disappeared into his tent. Thorstein spat, grabbed his axe, walked out and went to look around for himself, hoping to find something tasty in the woods if it wasn't too late in the day for that. But some hunters had already beaten him to it, however. He saw a group of them carrying a couple of deer strung up on poles much to the cheering of their friends. Ah, screw it. I’ll just eat cheese. This turned his mind away from any hunting expeditions. I think I should find something better to do, or at least find someone important to give me a quick briefing. It can’t be too long before we move.
Meanwhile, Ivar was mumbling in his tent in front of a table on which he was casting his runes. He knew no real magic, but he was well versed in poetry and convinced the rune lots showed at least a grain of truth no matter who should cast them, that being their divine nature. He knelt before the table and looked at the wooden Asa-Thor figurine in front of which a small fire was burning.
‘Baldrs brother, troll-wives’ bane, you in whose head Hrungnir’s whetstone stands,listen to me, Ivar: sharpen my weapons, and give me strength against these your English enemies, and I swear a better ox will never be sacrificed to you than the one I have prepared brought over all the way across the sea.’
He got up and put the runes in the cup. He closed the opening with his hand and shook it. 'Come on, Allfather: show me what is to happen tomorrow or be damned, you stirrer up of strife!' The lots fell onto the table:
ᚢ ᚦ ᚼ
'Three runes for the three sisters. Three for the three Norns. The ox is the first, it will give us strength in arms over the foe. There will be battle as Thorn has appeared second: giants' work for sure. But the last one... Hail. Hel's rune, curse her! A storm? A flood? Drowning? She's going to take many to her halls soon. A calamity for sure. What am I to make of this? Some disaster is at hand too. But for whom?'
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