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Author Topic: Nemo Georgson -Private, Skilled, 33rd Infantry Division  (Read 620 times)

* Benjamin Maynard

    (18/08/2013 at 13:28)
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Merlin's Order of Defense

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Names:
Let's get very complicated here.
Birthname: Hunter Francisco Saint Alabaster III
Goes by: Nemo Georgson (full name possibly known to the Ministry as a criminal, thanks to the lovely brother Nathaniel Saint Alabaster)
Enlists, therefore, as -with very convincing false papers: Sherlock "Nemo" Georgson

Age: 27. (29th April 1912)
Gender: Male.

Education: 
Hogwarts School, Hufflepuff Dropout (just before his graduation) of ‘30.

Residence:
Goodman Street 21C, Whitechapel, London, UK.
Although he tends to move a lot.


Division:
The 33rd Wizarding Infantry Division/54TH brigade - Other divisions ask too much of him, they require too much magical skill, skill that this man does not possess. He has little ambition to get magically better and therefore work his way up the social ladder. He belongs at the bottom in the shadows and he is quite happy there. Other than that, Nemo is reckless and careless and has nothing to loose. He does whatever is needed and asked from him, without giving it a second thought. He does not know the feeling of guilt.

Rank:
Private.

Specialty:
Signal Engineer - Nemo is not the man who is the most clever of all, but once he has figured out how something works, he is determined to be the best at it. The adrenaline junkie that he is wants to face the risks because he works the best under pressure -especially when he is hungry. With a history of a criminal, Nemo is one who can work intensely, and for a long period of time in cramped spaces.

He knows how to not stand out. His past shows that he is good at making sure that he won't get caught by the opponents. The man is also used to work with false names (as you may have noticed) and can lie with a scary ease. The papers that he has handed in when he enlisted state that he does not have bonds or ties to anything or anyone. He is alone in the world as far as he and the army may concern.

Nemo is stupid, but not when it comes down to transfiguration and Muggle Studies. Not that he was particularily fond of the class in school, but robbing Muggles tells you enough about their daily life, doesn't it?


Requested Magical Levels:
  • Charms: 9.
  • Divination: 5.
  • Transfiguration: 10.
  • Summoning: 7.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Ignis Fides Rivers, Salazar Ricarus, Arcus Ricardus, Loxias Ricardus Jr., Cladis Perses Gallion.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Hunter
People died twice. Once when the heart stopped beating and the blood was drained from the dead man’s face to collect itself at the back of his head. This was a shallow death because you still lived on in the words and memories of others. As long as your name would be called, you would still be there somehow. When people stopped calling your name and dropped you into the dark pits of oblivion, then you were indefinitely dead.

Hunter Francisco St Alabaster III was one of the people that was somewhat indefinitely dead.

Hunter had put his own life in the wage and had then committed suicide in the Family Vault, of all places.

It was not like anyone would care that Hunter was dead, had been his cold reasoning. It was not like someone would even raise a brow at the unfortunate demise of one of the sons of the St Alabaster Family. No one had ever been interested in the boy that followed the commands of his Father Elijah St Alabaster like a lost and helpless puppy dog.

He had just been there, following the commands as he was raised with humility and respect. He had soaked it all up and had executed the role well enough to make people believe him, but failed plenty of times behind the scenes when he simply could not remember on what side of the plate the fork was supposed to be and where on earth those little wooden stakes were for. He had been believable when he had needed to be, and had dropped the act as soon as he had been alone. When he could admit himself to be nobody.

(Because of his shortcomings as the heir that his Father would have wished for, he thought himself unworthy. Forgotten. Shut off. Unloved. Blind to all the affection and kindness he received from his Family as he drowned in egoism.)

This son had been a bit of an outcast if you considered all the other St Alabasters. Hunter had been sorted into Hufflepuff while his Family cherished a long line of Ravenclaws. But it was probably for the better, for Hunter was not capable of anything the Ravenclaw house stood for. He did not possess the brain that would contain ideas and ideals on how to get the fortune back that his Family had lost and he certainly did not have any ferocious or ambitious plans for his future.

A nitwit was all that Hunter had been, his brothers being better at everything even when they were younger than him. They were better at school and they did a better job by keeping their friends close. They were the ones that his Father would proudly claim as his own.

Not Hunter.

Not the man that did not want to tell people his name. Not the man that was more at ease when he did not have to announce his name to perfect strangers. Not the man that was better off with nicknames, the man that surrounded himself with the inferior and lower ranks of the society. The scum that wandered the planes of the earth.

It was simple, the boy had been convinced to have just existed and no one had looked at him. He had been blind for it, pitied himself while he did not have a reason for it. The dark haired boy had been a waste of breath and he would not be missed. The world was better off without him and his sin that was the very same reason that he had planned on killing himself mentally. The sin of greed and the capability to contain it quickly and easily without any resistance or with people to notice until it was too late.

And that was the exact reason that Hunter had ‘killed’ himself by robbing his Family vault. His name had not been spoken ever since that he had walked out of the vault he had robbed, and had shouldered his way through the crowds like a shadow of that what he had been. He had not been called after that, uncatchable and unattainable like the wind.

And that what he was now, was just a shade. A nobody.

Just a little nobody. A little Nemo.

"Nemo"
He was sure that he had a file. You could not go robbing everything around without getting noticed eventually, especially not when you had an ambitious brother who worked as an auror at the Ministry. He knew that there was a file with his name on it, a file that screamed 'Hunter Francisco Saint Alabaster III'.

He wasn't sure if 'Nemo' was the name that they used to address him with.

But he couldn't be too careful.

And he was also kind of sure that he could not turn up all of a sudden to Merlin's Order of Defense with the criminal's name stained onto the false documents that he carried around with him. There was no way that they would allow him get in when they knew what he had done, and when they knew that he was not punished for it yet.

They would think that could not be trusted, and would eventually desert the army. Or go to the opponents and drink a beer with them. They would think that he would betray them, that he would turn against them.

Damn right they would.

He was a shadow, people didn't know him. And even fewer people knew that he called himself Nemo Georgson. He lived his nicknames, he was whatever people wanted him to be. But this would be his saving. Through the army, he could make sure that he would be something, any fake identity would be ensured.

His fingers took the papers that were handed to him by a shady figure in the back of an alley, and his green eyes skimmed over the name and the information that was written down on it. A wry smile painted itself onto his face as he paid and retreated his steps into the dark of the night.

The irony of his new name taunted him.

A detective, looking for himself.


Roleplay:

Option 2:

Some people feared the dark.

They feared the monsters that were in them, the way that you could not see much without the moon shining down and the stars simmering from behind the dark veils of the night and the fleeting thin clouds that flocked together. They were afraid of finding the gaunt face of Death in the night, that he would take them to the bitter place they had come from.

Bitter like the taste of ginger on your tongue.

With a toothpick, although the man had long forgotten what they were called again, he plucked the last remaining of the cookies from between his teeth and slid his tongue past his teeth. Swallowing, he hated the taste the ginger provided him so gingerly. He really should have remembered that he hated the blasted cookies.

Making a face, he set up his gear in the night. The night provided him the dark cloak that he needed to remain invisible, he needed it to disappear and to become one with the nothingness of his surroundings. Green eyes fluttered around for a second, looking for any movement. His fingers were strong and determined as he fiddled with the thing that had been trusted to him.

The message that had to be send was scribbled down on such a thin piece of paper that it was almost see through, and he plucked it out of the pocket of his shirt. His fingers twisted and turned the paper until he could see the words in the faint light of the moon.

The wind tugged at the dark locks of his hair, made some leaves whisper.

His head snapped up in the direction, wand drawn as he remained as still as was possible. Someone was there, or he was getting paranoid.

Nemo didn't know which one he preferred.
I AM OVERGROWN WITH
HALF
LIVES

Epona de Troyes

    (18/08/2013 at 23:47)
Merlin's Order of Defense

Volunteer Enlistment

Mr. Sherlock N. Georgson,

Having submitted yourself to the Wizarding National Service with a request for immediate induction into military service in light of the present emergency, it is hereby acknowledged that you have volunteered to serve as a signal engineer in the Wizarding Army of Great Britain for the period of one year unless sooner discharged by the proper authority.

You will, therefore, report to your assigned barracks in Hogsmeade, Scotland, at twelve noon on the 1st day of September, 1939.

From and after the day and hour just named you will be commissioned in the military service of Wizarding Britain, in the 54th Brigade of the 33rd Infantry Division, fitted suitably with the rank of Private.

Signed,

Stanford Audley
Head of the Department of Defense

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