Newbie
Group: Members
Posts: 2
Member No.: 28
Joined: 26-August 05
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Character Information
Character’s Name: Ian David Winter
Nickname(s): Just Ian will do, thank you.
Age: 11 (Birthdate November 14th, 1985)
Year: First year.
Blood: Muggle born (though his father’s step-mother is quite the witch).
Wand: Previously his grandmother’s, his wand is crafted of the finest cedar wood with a sturdy oak handle. It ends at a decent twelve and a half inches, and contains a Norwegian Ridgeback’s heartstring.
Pet: None, though he’d much like to have one.
House Preference and Reason: Considering he knows almost nothing of the school and its respective houses, he has no preference. Also, I’d much prefer my character to be authentically sorted, as opposed to trying to turn the Headmaster’s attention to a specific house. Makes for better RP that way, don’t you think?
Appearance: Standing at barely five feet, Ian is the poster boy for small children. A thick wavy mat of golden blonde hair tops his head, trendily coiffed in that bed-head sort of style. In the back, his hair is nearly neck length. In the front, sly, chunky bangs hang over the right of his two gorgeously large and blue eyes. He is constantly brushing these bangs away from his face, giving them a sort of rightwards slant, leaving his left eye completely visible, as well as the forehead above it. His face itself, marked with the glow of childlike innocence, seems almost angelic. Thick, long eyelashes. Pale, clear skin. Full, pouty lips. It’s no wonder Ian is often mistaken as a girl, something which plagues his young life. His body is trim and proper, the result of a few years Karate courses forced on him by his father (which he ended up liking anyway, so whoo-hoo). This nearly Grecian image of beauty, however, is marred by the presence of thick, black braces jutting across his teeth. Quite aware of this fact, Ian tries as hard as he can to keep a straight face, often causing him to look a bit more serious than he intends.
Personality: When first meeting Ian, he may seem like a ridiculously shy, clumsy, and nervous person. Stumbling over his words, barely able to keep eye contact, it’s a wonder the boy has any friends at all, really. But if you asked any of Ian’s friends what he was like, they’d tell you quite the opposite. He’s loud (almost obnoxiously so), boisterous, incredibly immature, and so quick-tongued most people can barely keep up with him in conversation. Though not really a troublemaker, he delights in playing innocent pranks on his friends, and generally flying about the halls in sugar-induced fits of hyperactive joy. His teachers say he’s a handful. His friends say he’s quite the guy, quite the guy indeed.
If you asked Ian what he was like, he’d tell you that he loves to read, and pretty much would leave it at that. Whenever Ian isn’t filling his idle time with friends or school activities, he can often be found in a corner with his nose shoved between the pages of a book, often several grades above his level. This puzzles his teachers, for despite his advanced reading skills, Ian does horrible in school. He rarely pays attention in class, and usually never does his homework. However, in the rare moments he does participate, his teachers note a keen understanding of the subject material. It can’t be his work ethic, the teachers say, for his dedication to our after school Karate club is simply astounding. His math teachers were exempt from these comments.
Overall, Ian tries to keep to himself. He finds it very difficult to strike up conversations with people, so he has very few friends. Although he is quite bright, he has difficulty maintaining focus on mostly anything for far too long unless it interests him. Despite his brightness, Ian would rather entertain himself with a night of Nintendo than do a bunch of useless homework. He also, if he ever gets going, doesn’t know when to keep his big mouth shut, often hurting people’s feelings or divulging too much information about himself or others. To those outside of his small group of friends, his rare, occasional comments during class seem to be what people deem a bit ‘creepy’. He, himself, thoroughly dislikes being the center of attention, yet he nonetheless craves it whenever he is not.
Important Relationships: Abby Winter (Mother): Like all young boys, Ian loves his mother very, very much.
David Winter (Father): Ian’s father is the classic kind of Dad, always trying to encourage Ian to get into sports and other such things Ian really doesn’t have much taste for. It was when Ian saw Karate Kid with his father that he ever really developed an interest in anything remotely athletic.
Maura Feltwood-Winter (Step-Grandmother on father’s side): A witch who settled down with a muggle she became so fond of, she left the wizarding world behind forever. Ian’s grandmother was never really important to Ian himself, but when he was caught playing with her possessions from her school days in the Salem Institution, it changed his life forever.
History: Ian’s life is pretty white bread.
He was born at home in the gorgeous city of San Francisco, California, where he lived a happy, uneventful life until the age of 9 when he caused quite a scene at a family get-together when he unearthed his step-grandmother’s old wand.
Let’s just say we’ll never get the turkey out of those drapes. *ahem*
Despite the horridity (it’s a word now) of this event, Ian’s grandma saw this as a chance of a lifetime. She quickly called around from fireplace to fireplace, trying to pull the right strings to get Ian into a proper wizarding school.
And lo and behold, when Ian’s 11th birthday rolled around, along came a letter from WickerKnot.
Roleplay Sample: Ian breathed a heavy sigh as he propped himself up against the soft speckled wall of his grandmother’s guest bedroom, a copy of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) in one hand, a glass of milk in the other.
Ian grumbled as he turned the thick leather book over in his right hand, peering at the cover with obvious distaste as he took a long gulp of milk, setting the glass down by his side on the hardwood floor. Blowing hair away from his eyes, he quickly repositioned himself against the wall. He opened the tome to where his bookmark, a previously unused quill, lay and began to scan the pages with a growing look of displeasure creeping across his brow.
“Come on, Grandma,” he whined in his rich, nasally little voice. “Why do I have to review all this stuff if I’m not even allowed to try it?”
“Because if you don’t,” yelled a dark rich voice from beyond the wall, “you’ll be the laughingstock of the entire school.”
He sighed dejectedly, staring at the slew of tiny letters scrawled across the open pages, some of which were bobbing up and down on them, entire sentences seeming to dance for his attention. Unfortunately for Ian, the novelty of this charm wore off days ago and now only seemed to mildly annoy him. He cleared his throat before starting on the first few lines, mumbling quietly to himself as he read.
“The Alohomora Charm,” he began, “has been a very useful charm for wizards of all ages for many centuries.”
Ian stopped momentarily, smiling with pride as the first sentence on the page immediately stopped its aggravating bobbing, now turning a brilliant shade of blue. He set the book down in his lap as he continued to read quietly to himself, taking the occasional sip of milk.
After quite a long time (in actuality 40 seconds), Ian was only half through the page, and all the way through his milk. He groaned with impatience.
“This is useless to me now if I can’t even practice it!” he shouted. “Aside from the oh-so-useful histories of the spells, it’s nothing but tips on how to hold your WAND, how to wave your WAND, how to point your WAND. Can’t you just let me have it back, Gram?”
“No!” replied the voice sternly. “No, no, no! Absolutely not. I won’t be having you blowing up any more holes in the wall! Besides, one more letter from the ministry and you are out, young man! You hear me? Out!”
The remembrance of last night’s events brought a grimace to Ian’s face. He glanced at the spackled wall behind him, which, prior to last night, was covered in boring flowery wallpaper. He glanced around the edges of the last-second repairs his granny had made, which, despite looking quite… spackly, was better than being exposed to the kitchen behind him. He chuckled as he pawed at the corners of the wall, tugging off the remnants of some of the wallpaper that managed to survive his little incident. He sighed deeply, rolling the wallpaper between his fingers, thinking quietly to himself.
“Okay, Gram, I guess you’re right…” he shouted towards the wall dejectedly, tossing the spell book across the room by his bed. “But this all better be worth it!”
“Trust me,” she said curtly, giving a firm tap on her side of the wall. “With your talent, it’ll be worth it.”
“Here’s hoping,” Ian mumbled as he threw himself on his bed, sliding a copy of Fight Club out from underneath the mattress and beginning to read. “Here’s hoping…”
Avatar: None, unless it’s required. But I did not see a notice saying you needed one.
Secret Words: Bowler, girge, derby, chapeau. (Did you know the ‘joining’ thing disappears once you log in? That was kind of a stickler.)
Player Information
(This information does not affect your chances of getting in. This is just so I know you better.)
Name: Brendan James Magnus Spence
General Location: Chicago, though I am originally from foggy ol’ London.
Previous Experience: Countless online RPs, though not in the message board sense. I’m a bit rusty, it’s been years.
Contact Info: AIM SN: Holy Brineshrimp. E-mail: Holybrineshrimp@hotmail.com
Anything Else?
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What's this? A new character?
