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Messages - Robin Märchen

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Elsewhere Accepted / Re: Robin Märchen || Elsewhere Teen
« on: 16/06/2016 at 21:01 »
Sorry that should be 1929!!

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Robin Märchen || Elsewhere Teen
« on: 16/06/2016 at 20:58 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Robin Märchen
Gender: Male
Age: 19 (Born 13 November 1931)
Blood Status: Halfblood

Education:
Hogwarts - Slytherin

Residence:
Nottingham, England

Occupation
Teenage Prince of Hoods

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
No

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

  • Charms: 11
  • Divination: 7
  • Transfiguration: 6
  • Summoning: 8
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Lyra Spencer, Andrés Alvear, and Co.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Tousled dark hair the color of wood and eyes that changed from a soily brown to a leafy green. The little boy had walked into the woods one day and never really left. He crowned himself, with a crown of maple leaves, as Prince of Hoods and Thieves and of the forest, a title which he had claimed at the tender age of one year and a month.

His first spoil was a gift to himself for his second Christmas. Placed on a counter, he had swiftly reached for a jar of gingerbread cookies and extracted one in no time at all. His mama was surprised to find, on turning around, the little boy with a half-eaten cookie in hand. She was even more surprised when he held it out toward her with a gap-toothed grin.

Thus began the illustrious (or so he himself thought) career of Robin Märchen, Prince of Hoods. The little boy grew to become a thief, albeit a thief with (in his opinion) good morals. He justified himself by giving the things he stole to friends who needed them.

There was a time when he even stole from his own papa, retrieving a beautiful silver pocket watch, etched with intricate leaves and a lovely bird, a robin, he liked to think. This, though, he kept for himself as a family heirloom (and simply because he rather liked it).

That wasn't the only thing the boy took from his papa. Archery was another. It came naturally to him, and even his papa was impressed, which he nearly always wasn't.

It was not long before word of the notorious Prince of Hoods had spread through the little town. The boy took great pride in his doings and was not afraid to let people know. In fact, he wanted all of Nottinghamshire to know. The only thing that made him falter was the taunting voices of the muggle boys he had stolen from in the village chanting, "Who killed cock robin?" It seemed as if everyone would take  part in the demise of his career.

When he finally entered wizard school, where he belonged, the boy was sorted into the most cunning and ambitious house. At times he felt he did not belong, and at others he believed he did. The seven years that the boy passed at Hogwarts were the most tumultuous that he had ever experienced. And yet his antics continued.

And when school finally ended, the boy, now nearly an adult, walked back into the woods near his childhood home. He took his place on a throne of branches, vines, and leaves. His mind was there, at least, if not his body. It did not matter to him if his mama and papa and anyone else disapproved. "Who killed cock robin" (that blasted nursery rhyme) no longer rang in his ears. The boy leaned back and put his head on the cool wood of his throne. He was now truly Robin Märchen, Prince of Hoods.


Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Roleplay Response:
Diagon Alley was one of Robin's favorite places, perfect for stealing and thievery. There were so many people no one would even notice, especially if a handsome young man with a goofy smile was doing the dirty work.

Robin eyed the people with fur collars, cashmere robes, and abundant precious jewelry around their necks and wrists. A bracelet wouldn't be so hard to get.

He first saw it through the crowd, a chain strung on a thin and pale wrist that showed no signs of work. It was golden, inlaid with sapphires and rubies and diamonds. Robin grinned and began to walk faster. Yes. It would do very well.

Looking down so as not to attract attention (though he doubted he would), Robin counted the cobblestones as he walked, "1, 2, 3, 4,-"

"Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

It was a woman's voice in the distance. She seemed desperate. For what, Robin knew not, but it was not long before he heard another exclamation, “Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!”

Robin wanted to look away, to see what the matter was, but a conquest was so close at hand. Then he saw the second object of interest that day, a glossy black pointed heel, on the ground right below the golden bracelet.

He made a move to retrieve and, in the process, slipped the bracelet off its wearer as she walked past him. Robin stuffed it into his pocket. Later.

But he finally saw, on the ground, the source of the sounds he had heard earlier. Like a good Prince of Hoods, Robin reached down, heel in hand and held it toward the lady, "I assume this is something of yours?"


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