(no subject)
Part One- Personal
Name: Æris
Character's Name: Julian Richard William Kendrick
Email: dartiste909@yahoo.com
AIM: --
Other Instant Messenger Programs: dartiste909@msn.com
AGE:(Must be 18+) 21
Past Rpg Experience: Small, private games among friends. I've lurked in a few larger games in the past, but this is the first time I'm actually applying for one.
Where did you hear about our RPG? hprpsearch
The following situations may or may not arise over the course of the game. You, as a player, are never required to participate in anything you do not wish, but the situations might arise around you. This is an adult game set in a fantasy world where there are definite bad-guys out there.
Having said that, please tell us you you feel about:
Het, slash and femmeslash: I fully respect other people's inclinations toward these genres.
NC-17 material: Depends on the context of the situation, but pretty much the same as above.
Violence: Well . . . this is a slightly sociopathic Death Eater we're talking about, after all! Fairly self explanatory, I should think.
Part Two- Character Info
Character Name: Julian R. W. Kendrick
Age: 29
Birthday: August 16, 1971
Wand: Yew, 11 and 3/4", somewhat rigid, single jobberknoll tail feather
House in School: Slytherin
Bloodline: Pureblood
Political View: Julian is a musician, an artist, a creator, a performer . . . but not a politician. Politics bore him and he would not have given tuppence about blood purity (or any other policies, for that matter) had it not been for his brother. When he joined the Death Eaters, it was not so much that he believed in blood cleansing, but rather that his brother did. His love and respect for Jon knew no bounds--he would gladly have died and killed for his sibling.
Appearance
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 152 lbs.
Build: Tall and lanky, yet muscular in his own way. He was never an athletic child, but Jon literally forced him into a rigorous physical regimen, pushing his frail physique to its limits.
Eyes: Julian has the hollow eyes of a dead man that leap to life only when his soul is in unison with music.
Hair: Dark. It is generally left uncared for aside from careless combing in the morning and occasional, often belated hair cut.
Dress style: Traditional wizarding robes, typically black in colour
Discerning Marks: Julian has the smooth, delicate hands of a pianist with elongated fingers. The rest of his features are rather scruffy, largely because he pays minimal attention to his presentation. He is not a handsome man by any standards, but there is something profoundly striking about him--attributable to both his demeanor, rigid and proud just as his brother taught him to be, as well as the unparalleled passion he imbues in his performances.
PB: Christian Bale
Sexuality: Straight, bordering on asexuality as his one true love is music and women rarely interest him.
Psychology
Introvert/Extrovert Introvert in the extreme, save for when he is on stage, one with music.
Boggart is? Explain. PLEASE NOTE: A Boggart assumes the shape of a *creature* or physical object. This is not the same as a Dementor Effect - it cannot be something vague like 'loneliness' or 'sadness' or 'darkness'. It must have shape and form. Jon Kendrick. Julian fears him almost as much as he worships him.
Patronus--can they produce one? What is it and why does it have that form? Again, please note, as per canon - a Patronus is a *creature* of some kind. We have been very flexibe as to allow fictional creatures to be Patronuses, but it cannot be an inanimate object. A Beater's Bat cannot be a Patronus. A nightingale. Julian absolutely loves to hear them sing and used to have several that regularly dropped by his bedroom window for bread crumbs.
Personality
Julian has very low empathy. He is slightly antisocial in that he doesn't care much for other humans and their affairs. Some might even call him ignorant, but that is, in fact, an inaccurate statement. He is not unaware of world affairs, but rather simply doesn't give a rat's arse about them. The only man he ever felt attached to was his brother, and he is dead. He has only ever been fond of animals, but his true passion lies in music. He is intensely devoted to performing, be it music or carrying out tasks asked of him, and absolutely loathes having his performances interrupted.
Julian has a vague sense of the laypeople's notion of scruples, but is entirely indifferent towards it. Crime, from minor theft to extreme violence, is nothing more or less than a chore, a duty that must be carried out if asked. He likes nor dislikes the things he has done for the Dark Lord. They are simply jobs, not much different from the essays he had to write for his classes at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he regards every job he is handed with extreme seriousness. Each job is a performance for him, and nothing can deter him until he has hit that final note with perfection. Unfortunately, he is afflicted with chronic migraine which comes and goes as it pleases and sometimes strikes at the worst possible moment.
Julian is a paranoid and a mysognist. He regards women as unfortunate inconveniences to be used when he needs them and to be discarded afterwards. For him, it is like the act of visiting the loo: something needed for biological satisfaction but something he does with great reluctance. He is not so crude as to pull random damsel off the street, however; he is affluent enough to afford those "available" with less legal ramifications.
Julian's sociopathic tendencies stem from a number of factors, most notable among them being both his parents' prolonged disinterest and absence, lack of social ties, Slytherin prejudices, his brother's later mental instability, and the training and the tasks given by Jon and higher Death Eaters.
Family
Parents? When Ilana Lorington married Nathan F. G. Kendrick, a suspected Death Eater, she was estranged from the rest of the Loringtons who were Order sympathetic. Only her mother kept in occasional touch with her through owls, and an inevitable rift formed between her and her three siblings. The years spent with the man disillusioned Ilana from her romantic infatuation, but being a headstrong woman, she refused to acknowledge her mistake in choosing her marital partner. Instead, she began to retreat inwards until there was nothing left of the bright, clever girl everybody used to know her to be.
Siblings? Jon Kendrick
Family dynamics
Julian was very ill as a child and remained tied to the sick bed for the vast majority of his early years. Nathan was a stern businessman who was frequently away from home, and Ilana detested the lingering odour of sickness and death. It was Jon who was always there for him by his side, reciting tales of adventures in lands far, far away, hanging onto every small change in his younger brother's condition. The doctors called it a miracle when Julian survived past the age of four. By age six, Julian was frolicking out on the grounds with his brother as though his health had never suffered, though the sickness had left its mark on his gaunt face and frail physique.
Then tragedy crept up on them, silent as a shadow. Nathan Kendrick did not return home, which, as it were, was not a cause for concern since such delays had frequent history in Kendrick Sr.'s schedule. This time, however, it was different. Within a week, the papers were plastered with various headlines reporting on the progress of R. v. Kendrick. By the subsequent full moon, Nathan had been sentenced to death by the Kiss of the Dementors.
Ilana inherited most of the late deceased's personal effects and family assets, but sad to say, she was in no condition to take control of the household. Instead, she took ill and locked herself up in her room. It was then that Jon appointed himself the head of the household. It was then that he began to undergo a terrifying transformation from a caring brother to a ruthless and demanding father figure who seemed to have less and less time for the carefree joys of life. Eventually, the only time Jon seemed to have for Julian anymore was to "train" his younger counterpart--to be stronger, to be more knowledgeable, to be worthy of the name Kendrick. These training sessions were cruel and pushed Julian well beyond his limits. The slightest sign of defiance or hesitation was punished most severely, or quelled on the spot with a simple statement of fact: there is no place for a spineless weakling in my family.
Lifestyle
Occupation: Social worker
Residence: Geneva, Switzerland
Financial Status: Lower middle class, with a secret deposit box filled with enough galleons to keep him comfortable through the rest of his days
History from student days at Hogwarts to the present time:
Julian always knew which house he wanted to be sorted into at Hogwarts, long before he was of age: whichever house his brother was in, albeit Slytherin. The Sorting Hat seemed to explore the possibility of a Hufflepuff, but his silent prayers were somehow answered by the Hat's loud proclamation, Slytherin!
The details of Nathan Kendrick's death was unknown to few, and the Kendrick brothers suffered its direct consequences. Many despised and avoided them, denouncing them as offsprings of evil, while their housemates welcomed them into their midst. Julian learned about muggles for the first time, his reaction moving rapidly from surprise (no magic!) to eventual disgust in the jealous, fearful ignoramuses who wanted only to taint or destroy magic. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy at its worst.
Shortly after Jon' graduation, Ilana passed away under mysterious circumstances. Foul play was suspected, however the aurors were unable to produce substantial evidence to prove their claim before a court of law. As a result, Jon became the true master of the house.
On Julian's graduate date, he was officially introduced to the world of the Death Eaters. He'd heard about them numerous occasions in the past, of course, but he'd never seriously considered joining them. It came as a slight surprise that Jon was one, had been one for a couple of years, in fact. By this time, Jon had changed a great deal. Some would have said he was deranged, traded his soul to the devil for power. Whatever the case, Jon had gained quite a notoriety among his people, and fully expected Julian to follow in his stead.
Julian didn't necessarily like the new Jon, yet his love for his brother knew no boundaries. It was truly a case of unconditional love, respect . . . and fear, as well. And so? And so he took the Dark Mark and conditioned himself to be worthy of being named the brother of Jon Kendrick.
Ironically enough, Jon quickly fell from his fleeting grace when he turned on his Death Eater partner (with whom he was not on favourable terms with), torturing and murdering the man alongside their intended victims. The Dark Lord barely spared him his life and appointed him only the lowliest of duties. Jon soon became a pathetic wreck of a man, a loud, arrogant alcoholic complaining incessantly and living in the past when his name used to mean something. Jon continually urged Julian to serve their Lord well so that the Lord may forgive him (Jon) for his sins and restore him to his rightful place.
Julian subsequently worked harder and harder to accomplish just that, but Jon never again enjoyed the spotlight he longed for. Rather, Julian's own efficiency came to the management's attention. The Inner Circle knew Julian was not truly loyal to them, but his usefulness served their needs extremely well indeed. The fact was, he was a blunt instrument with which they could smite their foes from nowhere, but he would never rise to the heights a true fanatic the likes of his brother could attain. He had the brains, but he would not be able to apply them effectively to their cause simply because he was not a true believer. They knew it, and he knew it. But he was extraordinarily adapt at taking orders, and his loyalties were guaranteed completely as long as they had his brother's. Jon became the bait, a hostage in some manner of speaking, and they had Julian body and soul.
The war raged on, and it was in their Lord's final moment that Jon, too, was sent to a place from which no mortal could return. Julian was deeply anguished. He had always known something like this would happen, but it was still a blow from which he had great difficulty recovering. All his life, he had defined himself by his brother's expectations. Now, he was lost and confused with no direction in life. Consequently, the aurors found him surprisingly abiding in the process of gathering up the remaining Death Eaters.
Julian's days in Azkaban were entirely uneventful. The Ministry's trust in dementors had waned significantly, accounting for the reduction in the number employed at the notorious prison for the infamous. If Julian had to describe his experience at the newly reformed Azkaban, it would have to be: boredom. It was so dreadfully boring that it was, in a word, inhuman. For lack of anything better to do, he spent most of his time scraping "art" on the wall (which proved rather harsh on his poor, delicate fingers), performing "music" with whatever object happened to be available at the time (which had much of the prison population demanding the blood of the "noise maker"), conversing with ants (which certainly grew dull at an alarming rate), and working out (Jon would have approved, he was sure).
By sheer luck, Julian found himself an unlikely ally: a naive guard who was a good family friend of the Loringtons. Julian pulled off a 'Jon,' that is, the maneuvers of a master manipulator, and managed to escape after almost half a year of imprisonment. The first thing he did as a free man was to avenge the death of his brother, as quickly and efficiently as possible since he was not in a position to attract unnecessary attention. Then he fled the country, taking refuge under various foreign states before settling in Switzerland.
In Switzerland, he underwent a permanent change of appearance and assumed the identity of Jacque Benoit, a wealthy French national on vacation for an indefinite period of time. Ironically enough, he was arrested yet again when he got into a fight with a muggleborn in which he was overheard using a choice few blood slangs by at least a dozen witnesses. The Swiss wizarding authorities took blood prejudices extremely seriously, and as luck would have it, the muggleborn happened to be the Deputy Minister of Magic. Having done a good job of drawing the Deputy Minister's blood, Julian was soon presented with two options: a five year sentence with no parole, or mandatory participation in an experimental rehabilitation program with 500 galleons in fine. He opted for the latter, not knowing precisely what the program would entail . . .
The principle of the program was to place the perpetrator in the victim's shoes, quite literally. First, his memories were backed up in a modified pensieve. Then, before Julian could utter a word of protest, he was Obliviated and thrown in the middle of a muggle city, to live as a muggle for a minimum of 365 days, or until the rehabilitation officers decided he was "cured". A couple of muggle patrol officers responded by placing him under the care of a local medical facility. They wired out notices and alerts, but of course, no one knew who this man was.
They called him "John," a not-so-subtle reference to the common placeholder name John Doe. John discovered, quite by accident, his god given talent for piano and thereon became known as "John the Pianist" around the hospital. When a month passed with no progress in finding his true identity, the hospital referred him to a local job agency, where he was able to secure a position as a social worker.
What plots would you like to pursue with this character? What short and long-term goals does the character have for his/her future?
I'd like to see what kind of effect the rehabilitation had on Julian, if any, and it would certainly be interesting to see other characters' reaction to his present circumstances.
Once you start playing the game and get a feel for your fellow players and characters, assuming the interaction is favourable, how long could you anticipate staying with this character and this game? What is your usual pattern of longevity in role-playing games? I'm actually seriously considering having Julian die at some point, but hopefully there will be a minimum of good few months' play time before that happens.
My usual pattern of longevity is until the end of the game, but to be perfectly frank, I've never been in a large, properly organised game such as this in the past, so that doesn't exactly mean much I fear.
What is your usual pattern of availabilty and play-time for a character and game which you enjoy? I'd say I'm available mostly on the weekends, but occasionally during weekdays as well.
Now that we've got a sense of your characterization, this is where you get to really showcase your writing style! Give us everything you've got! Remember--this sample must be a 'fresh' sample relevant to our game and the current setting.
Sample Journal Entry:
That quirky looking man was here again today. I wonder if he knows me in some way. The way he was staring, he might as well have. He wasn't staring outright, of course, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever he thought I wasn't looking. Just watching, that's all he did, weird like. And his clothes! What kind of a sane man wears a vest out of the 18th century over a cotton t-shirt that is surely at least five sizes too small and a pair of riding breeches, with sandals?
I certainly hope I am not related to the bloke in any way. I don't suppose I am anyways, otherwise why hasn't he contacted the police already? Unless he's not all up there, which is just too depressing of a possibility for me to consider. My so called life is overly complicated enough without a (dare I say, another) mental patient to support. Still, is it even remotely possible that he could be the key to my past? I wonder.
I asked him if I might assist him in any way, and he seemed all very alarmed and mumbled something I couldn't make out, then darted off as though I'd set him on fire or worse. Very strange, very strange.
Sample Third Person Writing:
The man paced in large strides, greately agitated. He was nervous, there was no doubt about it. Over an hour had passed since their arranged time . . . Delays were hardly the news of the day, not in these times, but he had a bad feeling tonight. A very bad feeling, and his senses were often dreadfully on the mark.
He turned again, his dead black eyes glinting for a fraction of a second with the life of the flame dancing in the hearth. There! He stopped, looking into the shadow where a human silhouette had appeared. Could it be? Oh God, please let it be . . .
The shadow stepped forth. It was not him. He need only look at the newcomer's face to understand . . . for what he had already known hours beforehand to be confirmed. Rabastan blindly felt his way to a nearby chair and slumped down on it. "He's dead," he said simply. It was not a question.
There was a small pause, that irritating little pause, before the answer came. "I'm sorry."
Rabastan looked down at his hands, those long, delicate fingers wrought together in agony. He had been anticipating this moment for years, he realised. But that didn't make it any less painful.
"Rabastan, we must leave. They'll be here for you--for us--any moment now," the bringer of death spoke, a subdued half whisper not wanting to break the sombre silence.
"No," he replied, surprising even himself. "You go. I . . ." He could not finish the sentence. "Don't worry about me," he finished, not looking up. There was a moment of awkwardness, the other man obviously engaging in an internal debate to do or not do as asked. The former won out, and the messenger was gone with a small pop.
He had about six minutes before what the messenger had prophesised came true. They came in ridiculous numbers, all brandishing wands in front of them. Rodolphus would have laughed, he thought with a pang.
"Rabastan Lestrange. You are hereby placed under arrest for conspiracies against the Ministry, assault causing . . ." The list of charges seemed to go on forever, and Rabastan tuned them out in his mind. He could almost see his brother's face if he shut his eyes . . . almost. Already, bits of him were fading away, and the more he tried to grasp onto the image, the less clear it became. Finally, all he could make out were the eyebrows, the nose, and possibly a bit of the mustache. Rodolphus had always loved that mustache, even though Rabastan had always thought he looked better without one.
". . . Do you understand these rights?" Rabastan opened his eyes. He straightened himself, feeling the tenseness in the air like tightly wound violin strings. He stood up, eyeing the circle of wands leveled at his torso. They flinched as he lifted both his hands, a wand held between two of his fingers. With a soft thud, he dropped the wand that had been with him for over three decades.
He looked at them without looking, and when he spoke, his voice was far away as though he were speaking through the floo from a distant land. "I am Rabastan Pétrus Lestrange, son of Randolph Lestrange, and I understand my rights in full."
Name: Æris
Character's Name: Julian Richard William Kendrick
Email: dartiste909@yahoo.com
AIM: --
Other Instant Messenger Programs: dartiste909@msn.com
AGE:(Must be 18+) 21
Past Rpg Experience: Small, private games among friends. I've lurked in a few larger games in the past, but this is the first time I'm actually applying for one.
Where did you hear about our RPG? hprpsearch
The following situations may or may not arise over the course of the game. You, as a player, are never required to participate in anything you do not wish, but the situations might arise around you. This is an adult game set in a fantasy world where there are definite bad-guys out there.
Having said that, please tell us you you feel about:
Het, slash and femmeslash: I fully respect other people's inclinations toward these genres.
NC-17 material: Depends on the context of the situation, but pretty much the same as above.
Violence: Well . . . this is a slightly sociopathic Death Eater we're talking about, after all! Fairly self explanatory, I should think.
Part Two- Character Info
Character Name: Julian R. W. Kendrick
Age: 29
Birthday: August 16, 1971
Wand: Yew, 11 and 3/4", somewhat rigid, single jobberknoll tail feather
House in School: Slytherin
Bloodline: Pureblood
Political View: Julian is a musician, an artist, a creator, a performer . . . but not a politician. Politics bore him and he would not have given tuppence about blood purity (or any other policies, for that matter) had it not been for his brother. When he joined the Death Eaters, it was not so much that he believed in blood cleansing, but rather that his brother did. His love and respect for Jon knew no bounds--he would gladly have died and killed for his sibling.
Appearance
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 152 lbs.
Build: Tall and lanky, yet muscular in his own way. He was never an athletic child, but Jon literally forced him into a rigorous physical regimen, pushing his frail physique to its limits.
Eyes: Julian has the hollow eyes of a dead man that leap to life only when his soul is in unison with music.
Hair: Dark. It is generally left uncared for aside from careless combing in the morning and occasional, often belated hair cut.
Dress style: Traditional wizarding robes, typically black in colour
Discerning Marks: Julian has the smooth, delicate hands of a pianist with elongated fingers. The rest of his features are rather scruffy, largely because he pays minimal attention to his presentation. He is not a handsome man by any standards, but there is something profoundly striking about him--attributable to both his demeanor, rigid and proud just as his brother taught him to be, as well as the unparalleled passion he imbues in his performances.
PB: Christian Bale
Sexuality: Straight, bordering on asexuality as his one true love is music and women rarely interest him.
Psychology
Introvert/Extrovert Introvert in the extreme, save for when he is on stage, one with music.
Boggart is? Explain. PLEASE NOTE: A Boggart assumes the shape of a *creature* or physical object. This is not the same as a Dementor Effect - it cannot be something vague like 'loneliness' or 'sadness' or 'darkness'. It must have shape and form. Jon Kendrick. Julian fears him almost as much as he worships him.
Patronus--can they produce one? What is it and why does it have that form? Again, please note, as per canon - a Patronus is a *creature* of some kind. We have been very flexibe as to allow fictional creatures to be Patronuses, but it cannot be an inanimate object. A Beater's Bat cannot be a Patronus. A nightingale. Julian absolutely loves to hear them sing and used to have several that regularly dropped by his bedroom window for bread crumbs.
Personality
Julian has very low empathy. He is slightly antisocial in that he doesn't care much for other humans and their affairs. Some might even call him ignorant, but that is, in fact, an inaccurate statement. He is not unaware of world affairs, but rather simply doesn't give a rat's arse about them. The only man he ever felt attached to was his brother, and he is dead. He has only ever been fond of animals, but his true passion lies in music. He is intensely devoted to performing, be it music or carrying out tasks asked of him, and absolutely loathes having his performances interrupted.
Julian has a vague sense of the laypeople's notion of scruples, but is entirely indifferent towards it. Crime, from minor theft to extreme violence, is nothing more or less than a chore, a duty that must be carried out if asked. He likes nor dislikes the things he has done for the Dark Lord. They are simply jobs, not much different from the essays he had to write for his classes at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he regards every job he is handed with extreme seriousness. Each job is a performance for him, and nothing can deter him until he has hit that final note with perfection. Unfortunately, he is afflicted with chronic migraine which comes and goes as it pleases and sometimes strikes at the worst possible moment.
Julian is a paranoid and a mysognist. He regards women as unfortunate inconveniences to be used when he needs them and to be discarded afterwards. For him, it is like the act of visiting the loo: something needed for biological satisfaction but something he does with great reluctance. He is not so crude as to pull random damsel off the street, however; he is affluent enough to afford those "available" with less legal ramifications.
Julian's sociopathic tendencies stem from a number of factors, most notable among them being both his parents' prolonged disinterest and absence, lack of social ties, Slytherin prejudices, his brother's later mental instability, and the training and the tasks given by Jon and higher Death Eaters.
Family
Parents? When Ilana Lorington married Nathan F. G. Kendrick, a suspected Death Eater, she was estranged from the rest of the Loringtons who were Order sympathetic. Only her mother kept in occasional touch with her through owls, and an inevitable rift formed between her and her three siblings. The years spent with the man disillusioned Ilana from her romantic infatuation, but being a headstrong woman, she refused to acknowledge her mistake in choosing her marital partner. Instead, she began to retreat inwards until there was nothing left of the bright, clever girl everybody used to know her to be.
Siblings? Jon Kendrick
Family dynamics
Julian was very ill as a child and remained tied to the sick bed for the vast majority of his early years. Nathan was a stern businessman who was frequently away from home, and Ilana detested the lingering odour of sickness and death. It was Jon who was always there for him by his side, reciting tales of adventures in lands far, far away, hanging onto every small change in his younger brother's condition. The doctors called it a miracle when Julian survived past the age of four. By age six, Julian was frolicking out on the grounds with his brother as though his health had never suffered, though the sickness had left its mark on his gaunt face and frail physique.
Then tragedy crept up on them, silent as a shadow. Nathan Kendrick did not return home, which, as it were, was not a cause for concern since such delays had frequent history in Kendrick Sr.'s schedule. This time, however, it was different. Within a week, the papers were plastered with various headlines reporting on the progress of R. v. Kendrick. By the subsequent full moon, Nathan had been sentenced to death by the Kiss of the Dementors.
Ilana inherited most of the late deceased's personal effects and family assets, but sad to say, she was in no condition to take control of the household. Instead, she took ill and locked herself up in her room. It was then that Jon appointed himself the head of the household. It was then that he began to undergo a terrifying transformation from a caring brother to a ruthless and demanding father figure who seemed to have less and less time for the carefree joys of life. Eventually, the only time Jon seemed to have for Julian anymore was to "train" his younger counterpart--to be stronger, to be more knowledgeable, to be worthy of the name Kendrick. These training sessions were cruel and pushed Julian well beyond his limits. The slightest sign of defiance or hesitation was punished most severely, or quelled on the spot with a simple statement of fact: there is no place for a spineless weakling in my family.
Lifestyle
Occupation: Social worker
Residence: Geneva, Switzerland
Financial Status: Lower middle class, with a secret deposit box filled with enough galleons to keep him comfortable through the rest of his days
History from student days at Hogwarts to the present time:
Julian always knew which house he wanted to be sorted into at Hogwarts, long before he was of age: whichever house his brother was in, albeit Slytherin. The Sorting Hat seemed to explore the possibility of a Hufflepuff, but his silent prayers were somehow answered by the Hat's loud proclamation, Slytherin!
The details of Nathan Kendrick's death was unknown to few, and the Kendrick brothers suffered its direct consequences. Many despised and avoided them, denouncing them as offsprings of evil, while their housemates welcomed them into their midst. Julian learned about muggles for the first time, his reaction moving rapidly from surprise (no magic!) to eventual disgust in the jealous, fearful ignoramuses who wanted only to taint or destroy magic. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy at its worst.
Shortly after Jon' graduation, Ilana passed away under mysterious circumstances. Foul play was suspected, however the aurors were unable to produce substantial evidence to prove their claim before a court of law. As a result, Jon became the true master of the house.
On Julian's graduate date, he was officially introduced to the world of the Death Eaters. He'd heard about them numerous occasions in the past, of course, but he'd never seriously considered joining them. It came as a slight surprise that Jon was one, had been one for a couple of years, in fact. By this time, Jon had changed a great deal. Some would have said he was deranged, traded his soul to the devil for power. Whatever the case, Jon had gained quite a notoriety among his people, and fully expected Julian to follow in his stead.
Julian didn't necessarily like the new Jon, yet his love for his brother knew no boundaries. It was truly a case of unconditional love, respect . . . and fear, as well. And so? And so he took the Dark Mark and conditioned himself to be worthy of being named the brother of Jon Kendrick.
Ironically enough, Jon quickly fell from his fleeting grace when he turned on his Death Eater partner (with whom he was not on favourable terms with), torturing and murdering the man alongside their intended victims. The Dark Lord barely spared him his life and appointed him only the lowliest of duties. Jon soon became a pathetic wreck of a man, a loud, arrogant alcoholic complaining incessantly and living in the past when his name used to mean something. Jon continually urged Julian to serve their Lord well so that the Lord may forgive him (Jon) for his sins and restore him to his rightful place.
Julian subsequently worked harder and harder to accomplish just that, but Jon never again enjoyed the spotlight he longed for. Rather, Julian's own efficiency came to the management's attention. The Inner Circle knew Julian was not truly loyal to them, but his usefulness served their needs extremely well indeed. The fact was, he was a blunt instrument with which they could smite their foes from nowhere, but he would never rise to the heights a true fanatic the likes of his brother could attain. He had the brains, but he would not be able to apply them effectively to their cause simply because he was not a true believer. They knew it, and he knew it. But he was extraordinarily adapt at taking orders, and his loyalties were guaranteed completely as long as they had his brother's. Jon became the bait, a hostage in some manner of speaking, and they had Julian body and soul.
The war raged on, and it was in their Lord's final moment that Jon, too, was sent to a place from which no mortal could return. Julian was deeply anguished. He had always known something like this would happen, but it was still a blow from which he had great difficulty recovering. All his life, he had defined himself by his brother's expectations. Now, he was lost and confused with no direction in life. Consequently, the aurors found him surprisingly abiding in the process of gathering up the remaining Death Eaters.
Julian's days in Azkaban were entirely uneventful. The Ministry's trust in dementors had waned significantly, accounting for the reduction in the number employed at the notorious prison for the infamous. If Julian had to describe his experience at the newly reformed Azkaban, it would have to be: boredom. It was so dreadfully boring that it was, in a word, inhuman. For lack of anything better to do, he spent most of his time scraping "art" on the wall (which proved rather harsh on his poor, delicate fingers), performing "music" with whatever object happened to be available at the time (which had much of the prison population demanding the blood of the "noise maker"), conversing with ants (which certainly grew dull at an alarming rate), and working out (Jon would have approved, he was sure).
By sheer luck, Julian found himself an unlikely ally: a naive guard who was a good family friend of the Loringtons. Julian pulled off a 'Jon,' that is, the maneuvers of a master manipulator, and managed to escape after almost half a year of imprisonment. The first thing he did as a free man was to avenge the death of his brother, as quickly and efficiently as possible since he was not in a position to attract unnecessary attention. Then he fled the country, taking refuge under various foreign states before settling in Switzerland.
In Switzerland, he underwent a permanent change of appearance and assumed the identity of Jacque Benoit, a wealthy French national on vacation for an indefinite period of time. Ironically enough, he was arrested yet again when he got into a fight with a muggleborn in which he was overheard using a choice few blood slangs by at least a dozen witnesses. The Swiss wizarding authorities took blood prejudices extremely seriously, and as luck would have it, the muggleborn happened to be the Deputy Minister of Magic. Having done a good job of drawing the Deputy Minister's blood, Julian was soon presented with two options: a five year sentence with no parole, or mandatory participation in an experimental rehabilitation program with 500 galleons in fine. He opted for the latter, not knowing precisely what the program would entail . . .
The principle of the program was to place the perpetrator in the victim's shoes, quite literally. First, his memories were backed up in a modified pensieve. Then, before Julian could utter a word of protest, he was Obliviated and thrown in the middle of a muggle city, to live as a muggle for a minimum of 365 days, or until the rehabilitation officers decided he was "cured". A couple of muggle patrol officers responded by placing him under the care of a local medical facility. They wired out notices and alerts, but of course, no one knew who this man was.
They called him "John," a not-so-subtle reference to the common placeholder name John Doe. John discovered, quite by accident, his god given talent for piano and thereon became known as "John the Pianist" around the hospital. When a month passed with no progress in finding his true identity, the hospital referred him to a local job agency, where he was able to secure a position as a social worker.
What plots would you like to pursue with this character? What short and long-term goals does the character have for his/her future?
I'd like to see what kind of effect the rehabilitation had on Julian, if any, and it would certainly be interesting to see other characters' reaction to his present circumstances.
Once you start playing the game and get a feel for your fellow players and characters, assuming the interaction is favourable, how long could you anticipate staying with this character and this game? What is your usual pattern of longevity in role-playing games? I'm actually seriously considering having Julian die at some point, but hopefully there will be a minimum of good few months' play time before that happens.
My usual pattern of longevity is until the end of the game, but to be perfectly frank, I've never been in a large, properly organised game such as this in the past, so that doesn't exactly mean much I fear.
What is your usual pattern of availabilty and play-time for a character and game which you enjoy? I'd say I'm available mostly on the weekends, but occasionally during weekdays as well.
Now that we've got a sense of your characterization, this is where you get to really showcase your writing style! Give us everything you've got! Remember--this sample must be a 'fresh' sample relevant to our game and the current setting.
Sample Journal Entry:
That quirky looking man was here again today. I wonder if he knows me in some way. The way he was staring, he might as well have. He wasn't staring outright, of course, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever he thought I wasn't looking. Just watching, that's all he did, weird like. And his clothes! What kind of a sane man wears a vest out of the 18th century over a cotton t-shirt that is surely at least five sizes too small and a pair of riding breeches, with sandals?
I certainly hope I am not related to the bloke in any way. I don't suppose I am anyways, otherwise why hasn't he contacted the police already? Unless he's not all up there, which is just too depressing of a possibility for me to consider. My so called life is overly complicated enough without a (dare I say, another) mental patient to support. Still, is it even remotely possible that he could be the key to my past? I wonder.
I asked him if I might assist him in any way, and he seemed all very alarmed and mumbled something I couldn't make out, then darted off as though I'd set him on fire or worse. Very strange, very strange.
Sample Third Person Writing:
The man paced in large strides, greately agitated. He was nervous, there was no doubt about it. Over an hour had passed since their arranged time . . . Delays were hardly the news of the day, not in these times, but he had a bad feeling tonight. A very bad feeling, and his senses were often dreadfully on the mark.
He turned again, his dead black eyes glinting for a fraction of a second with the life of the flame dancing in the hearth. There! He stopped, looking into the shadow where a human silhouette had appeared. Could it be? Oh God, please let it be . . .
The shadow stepped forth. It was not him. He need only look at the newcomer's face to understand . . . for what he had already known hours beforehand to be confirmed. Rabastan blindly felt his way to a nearby chair and slumped down on it. "He's dead," he said simply. It was not a question.
There was a small pause, that irritating little pause, before the answer came. "I'm sorry."
Rabastan looked down at his hands, those long, delicate fingers wrought together in agony. He had been anticipating this moment for years, he realised. But that didn't make it any less painful.
"Rabastan, we must leave. They'll be here for you--for us--any moment now," the bringer of death spoke, a subdued half whisper not wanting to break the sombre silence.
"No," he replied, surprising even himself. "You go. I . . ." He could not finish the sentence. "Don't worry about me," he finished, not looking up. There was a moment of awkwardness, the other man obviously engaging in an internal debate to do or not do as asked. The former won out, and the messenger was gone with a small pop.
He had about six minutes before what the messenger had prophesised came true. They came in ridiculous numbers, all brandishing wands in front of them. Rodolphus would have laughed, he thought with a pang.
"Rabastan Lestrange. You are hereby placed under arrest for conspiracies against the Ministry, assault causing . . ." The list of charges seemed to go on forever, and Rabastan tuned them out in his mind. He could almost see his brother's face if he shut his eyes . . . almost. Already, bits of him were fading away, and the more he tried to grasp onto the image, the less clear it became. Finally, all he could make out were the eyebrows, the nose, and possibly a bit of the mustache. Rodolphus had always loved that mustache, even though Rabastan had always thought he looked better without one.
". . . Do you understand these rights?" Rabastan opened his eyes. He straightened himself, feeling the tenseness in the air like tightly wound violin strings. He stood up, eyeing the circle of wands leveled at his torso. They flinched as he lifted both his hands, a wand held between two of his fingers. With a soft thud, he dropped the wand that had been with him for over three decades.
He looked at them without looking, and when he spoke, his voice was far away as though he were speaking through the floo from a distant land. "I am Rabastan Pétrus Lestrange, son of Randolph Lestrange, and I understand my rights in full."