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Messages - Geryon Crowley
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« on: 03/02/2020 at 19:05 »
E L S E W H E R E C H I L D CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Callan Alastair Fraser Gender: Male Age: 10, born May 1st 1948 Bloodline: Halfblood Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): Mother: Nairna Fraser, farmer and housewife. Father: Robert Reed Fraser, farmer and radio broadcaster. They are currently NPCs, but they might be played in the future. Residence:The Fraser Farm, close to Inverness, Scotland. A large piece of land well known for farming trees for wand and broom-making and home to Callan, his parents, siblings, grandfather, aunt, uncle and cousins – as well as some workers. Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?Not at this time, but I will apply him for Hogwarts next term. 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:Geryon Crowley & co. Biography:"Callan," she whispered, as a tear of joy ran down her apple red cheek. "Callan Alastair," she repeated, louder this time, cradeling the newborn boy in her arms. "Welcome, Callan Alastair," the voices sounded in response. All happy. Joyful. Proud. Robert, Willanius, Feradorah, Bearnard and Tilda – as well as some members of the neighboring clans, all stood in a circle around Nairna and her child. The trees of the family farm surrounding them, protecting them. Willanius and his sons stepped into the middle, Robert was carrying the shovel. He dug a hole and the three of them kneeled down. Willanius raised his hand – holding the seed of a tree. Everyone closed their eyes as he began to whisper in Gaelic. Following the last word the seed was planted in the ground. After returning the soil with his hands, Robert walked over to his wife and son, with a smile that felt like it stretched all the way around. Leaning down he kissed Nairna's forehead before placing his soil-covered thumb on his son's. "Fàilte, my lad," Robert said, before taking the child into his arms. "I have a son!" He exclaimed towards the rest, and they all cheered in response.
Peeking over his shoulder, Callan could see them over by the Hawthorns, doing whatever it was that they were doing.. The young Fraser boy frankly wasn't interested in the care of trees , but he certainly liked climbing them! Although, it had become a rather risky affair, as his grandpa had given clear instructions as for which trees were strictly off limits. Instructions that Callan probably remembered for a maximum of 7 minutes. But this tree right here, it pretty much begged to be climbed – with all these perfectly climbable branches poking out in every direction. It was exactly tall enough to be exciting, and not so dense that he would be robbed of the spectacular view he was after on the top. Yet, dense enough that his granparents working close by would have trouble spotting him, if this was indeed one of the “no climb trees”. Carefully he placed his feet, reached for a new branch and pulled himself further up. He was getting good at this, it was almost too easy! That was the last thought that passed through his head before the crack reached his ears and he felt the support vanish from beneath his feet. Down he fell, scratching his face and being slapped by quite a few branches along the way. With a thump he landed flat on the grass – a big broken branch laying next to him. "Auch," Callan whispered, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Immediately he heard his name being yelled, the voice coming nearer with every breath he took. "Callan Alastair Fraser, I told you, I told you not to climb this tree!" Willanius shouted in dispair, kneeling – not beside the boy, but the branch next to him. "Look what you've done," he continued, voice lower now, shaking as he picked up the severed branch. Callan bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. Not cause he hurt from the fall, but he really hated dissappointing those he cared about. The old man took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he put the branch back down. "Are you allright?" he asked, as Feradorah came running up behind him. "I'm sorry," Callan whimpered, not daring to open his eyes. "Not to worry, my dear," his grandmother lovingly said as she sat down by the boy and picked him up into a hug, just as the water could no longer be contained in the child's eyes. "Wounds and scratches will heal, for little lads and trees alike," she continued, stroking Callan's hair and sending a loving gaze towards her husband. "And while I think I have just the thing to help you dry your tears in my kitchen, no one is better at helping trees heal than your grandfather," she assured. Callan peeked up now, feeling a weight of his shoulders as he saw his grandfather smile. "The tree will be allright, lad," he eventually said. "And you can help me care for her tomorrow, if you'd like." Callan quickly nodded. He wanted nothing more than to make ammends. Reaching over to the branch, Fernadora took a piece of bark from it and placed it in Callan's small hand. "And maybe we can find some way to help you remember what trees like to be climbed on and which don't," she said, receiving a nod in response.
"You're going to need a new chair soon, lad! Did you see, Tilda, how long his legs have gotten?" Callan was grinning wide with a mouth full of roast and mashed potatoes when he heard his uncle speak. He did indeed feel like he had grown a lot this past winter, and of course uncle Bearnard would be the first to notice. It was a tradition in their family, that everyone got their own chair made from wood from the farm, and as they became older they eventually made their own. He particularly liked grandfather Willinius' chair – it was more like a throne with it's tall back and decorated armrests. Dad's was rather neat as well – it had so many carvings and decorations, and mom had painted it in really pretty colors. "I'm telling you Rob, soon he'll be joining my team!" Bearnard said and winked at his nephew, who had already scooped his fork ready for the next bite. Callan hoped he was right – he'd love to be a quidditch player, just like uncle Bear. The mood around the table was energic as always. Laughter and smiles, and mom's delicious cooking. "Maybe so, but quidditch players eat their vedgetables, right Bear?" his mother Nairna said with a smirk and sent her son an encouraging look. Whilst chewing, Callan took a long look at the broccoli on his plate, weighing it back and forth in his mind, before just about being able to fit it on the already stuffed fork. "Speaking of Quiddith!" his dad Robert shot in. "Guess who will be joining my radio show this Thursday?" There was no hiding the excitement in his voice. Robert Reed Fraser was very, very excited about his broadcasting. "Is it me again?" Bearnard replied teasingly, without getting any attention. "Giles McCorrin! Captain of the King Kelpies!" Callan heard the gasps around the table and although he didn't know much about quidditch, even he could feel that this was something big - at least in this household. After they had all gibbered on about the McCorrin guy for a while, Callan turned to face his grandfather. "Grandpa, when will I get my wand?" he asked. Willanius grinned and leaned in. "Now that my good lad, that is an excellent question indeed." Roleplay:Godric Park. Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight. Far below was another, much smaller broomstick. It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do. "John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug. Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf. Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby. "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to. "...Do you want to play?" Roleplay Response:Callan really enjoyed tagging along to deliver wood for the various wandshops and broommakers in the area. He got to see new places, meet new people and best of all – often get treats from the people they stopped by. He had become sort of a mascot by now and seldom complained about it. Although, there were times when the waiting was a bit more than he'd like. Dad would always talk with all and everyone – customers, aquaintances, people who listened to his radio show... There were always people stopping him ever so often – if he didn't see and stop them first. And sure, it was nice, but they could end up talking for what felt like forever.. And yes, this was indeed one of those moments. They had just finished the last delivery of the day and were heading through the park to get some well deserved ice cream. But of course dad had met someone who he knew from somewhere and was now stuck knee deep in conversation. Callan scratched his nose as he leaned back on a tree a few feet away from his dad. All of a sudden he heard someone cry out next to him. “You! Do you want to play?”Turning around he spottet a girl with what looked like a broom in her hand. Callan's eyes widened in excitement and he grinned without even realizing it. "Do I!" he answered without hesitation and pushed away from the tree and walked closer. "Is that your broom?" he asked, looking at it and then back at her. "Is it fast?"OTHERHow did you find us? I followed the trail back home.. ♡
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« on: 05/08/2016 at 15:17 »
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter name: Geryon "Crow" Crowley Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Adriel, Nicor, Carlo & co Character age: born October 31st, 1909 Character education:Hogwarts, Slytherin Magizoology studies Phd in torture, terror and trauma from Institutions and AzkabanStrength and weaknesses: Most of the traits he possesses can probably be both, depending on the situation and the fact that they shift like night and day. While the man in one moment can remember a tiny detail he noticed in the corner of his eye that one cloudy evening in 1925, he might not be able to remember a student’s name even after years of them being in his class. Detail oriented, but often oblivious to the bigger picture. In a hidden tribe in the middle of the Amazonas jungle Geryon can guide you safely through all their weird customs and without problem make sure you don’t offend any kind of animal you meet, but what would be considered common sense and curtesy back home in England is like an alien language. So selective of what he chooses to even consider caring about, but extremely good at the weird stuff he ends up with. If anything gets him curious, he’d go to any length to pursue it. Eyes on the prize, not letting anything get in the way. Terrible in social situations, and often child-like in his reactions if pushed outside of his comfort zone, or if he doesn’t get his way. Always in constant need of having his shop assistant Evelyn keep him out of trouble – regarding everything from avoiding being sued to making sure he eats every now and then. Physical description: Skin so pale it can only be described as white – covered, head to toe, in all kinds of tattoos, markings and scars. The only thing rather average about this man might be his height. Raven black hair. Skinny built – skeletal hands. Cold, grey eyes usually peeking out from under the brim of a black top hat – stitched together, here and there. Always dressed in black, in clothes and garments that would never really fit into any time or fashion. A strange eccentric in his looks as well as his ways – even from a pureblood wizard point of view. Personality: Geryon has never really played well with others. Always a loner, weirdo and bizarre. Unconventional in just about every aspect of his being, thoughts and actions. His personality consists of contrast of the extreme – an unhealthy obsession with the few things he finds interesting, and complete lack of care for all and everything else. One moment he might seem entirely in control of the situation – displaying a sense of calm, mystique, showcasing skills and wisdom that would baffle most mortal men. While in the next he might just as well seem incapable of even putting his socks on. Geryon is a man without a set moral compass or any concept of honor or duty. He always has his own agenda, and in his mind it’s all that matters. Some might find him peculiar, funny or even insane. And maybe he is. One thing you can say for sure, is that he never aims to please – unless there is something in it for him. A price that is worth the effort. For the right reasons this man can do just about anything. Anything.Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?: Geryon has been teaching for years – first at Salem, later at Hogwarts. To claim it to be a hope or a dream to return would probably be a lie, as anything close to goals in this man’s life would be something involving groundbreaking discovery or possession of particularly deadly mythical creatures. But financing adventures, research and especially his shop in Knockturn Alley (which is not exactly a goldmine), demands sacrifice. Geryon hopes going back into teaching will help on the way to getting out of a rather messy financial situation and save the store that is practically his life and shelter. Also, as hard as it might be to believe, the odd man has come to care a lot of his assistant Evelyn, which spends nearly as much time there as he does. At least in his own mind Geryon is protecting her from the horrors that is the world outside their four walls in Knockturn. Having that taken away is not an option. And who knows, maybe he’ll end up enjoying being back teaching more than he thought? Biography: We are all faced with choices from the very beginning. For as long as we live. Yet there are always some things, some core parts of our very being, that cannot be chosen. Is not governed by will. Like what we are drawn to. Sounds. Colors. Which people, thoughts, impressions or actions make us feel good inside. Capture our interest. Make us tick. Or on the other hand make us want to hide. Hurt. Trigger the void that is indifference. You can think all you like, that you are your own master. But in the end we are all shaped. Molded. By environment. Achievement. Trials and experience. Reality is a relative concept, and yours is just that – you, and the rest of it. The only child of the Crowley family head, Geryon was born into great expectations. Next in line. Heir to the seat. Countless years of family history and pride resting upon his skinny shoulders. Shoes he at no point had any desire or aspiration to fill. Why would a boy distance himself so far from those considered to be his own kind? Connect with a bird on such a deep level that he ends up becoming it. Hurt. Healed. Flying away. What fire drives a passion into obsession. Making a man dance on the borderline of sanity – chasing myths and fables over the entire globe. Where do they come from, the voices calling him back into the shadows? Always. Comforting beams of moonlight – whispers and promises sealed in blood. Dead lips spill no secrets. As an injured crow became Geryon’s best, and nearly only childhood friend, that was the animal he became as his quest for animagi succeeded. The fascination and interest towards creatures grew – especially concerning the ones often being labeled with the same names he himself would face. Monster. Freak. While pursuing his Magizoology studies, Geryon travelled the world – bringing his research to the most remote of places. Making discoveries and gaining wisdom that could never been reached any other way. When returning home to England, the man opened a store – trading in creatures one wouldn’t find in any common petshop, while also conducting some more shady business on the side. His knowledge of his trade and skills in transfiguration eventually also led him to teach at both Salem and Hogwarts. How many words are there for a man who tortures another. Who puts himself first and let the others fall. Their screams pitch higher than your own. Never silent. Not ever again. While a prison of horror, stone and punishment tear them out – pieces of your soul. Sunshine. Smiles and laughter. Breaks your body down. Withering. How could anything ever compare to the prison of your own mind. Where although your being is released, you will always be trapped. It stiches you together. Life. Time. Bits and pieces. Old, new. A ragdoll of decisions. Accidents. Flukes. During the time of a corrupt Ministry, which set out to hunt down extraordinaries, Geryon found himself at the wrong side of the table. With his knowledge and skills they wanted him on their team – to perform torturing research on others. If he refused, they would burn down his shop and make him one of the subjects of study instead. For the Crowley heir it was not much of a choice. No one is ever always alone. Along those mislead paths of life someone will bother. For a second, for a while. Is there ever such a final thing as good or bad? At least two sides, they say. Sometimes many more. Depends on where you stand. What you look at. How you see it. Who’s there with you. Where they stand. How they see it. How you see them. Some claim trouble attracts trouble. Maybe that is because trouble understands what it’s like. And even when broken, empty and demented – he could still be saved. By the creatures. The animals. By the young girl with nothing left to loose. After spending time in Azkaban for his crimes and involvement in the Institutions, Geryon was spit out of Hell as a mere shell of the man he once was. Broken in every angle. Empty and tormented. Even the most basic of everyday things took a long time learning again. Getting back into. And a lot of it just never fell back into place. It was first when the girl from his transfiguration class walked through the doors of his sanctuary of misfits, and for some reason chose to stay under his employ, the pale man got a new sense of purpose. Growing protective of the girl things slowly started to matter a bit again, and Crow decided that he would do whatever it took to take care of that dark den in Knockturn, and all of the twisted creatures within. Not everyone is a hero. Predictable. Following a tuned moral compass set by honor and duty. Some have lost a lot of pieces along the way. Gained a few odd ones. Just make things up as they go along. He has saved. He has doomed. Discovered. Hidden. Helped and sabotaged. Many wants to see him burn. One won’t let you say a bad word to him. There are countless things to be said about Geryon. About Crow. But one thing is a certain, undeniable fact – he still is. And everything considered, that’s quite something.
SAMPLE ROLEPLAYIt was the largest office in Hogwarts and, perhaps to students and newcomers, the most intimidating. The shelves were filled with various odds and ends, with a place of honor for the Sorting Hat, and the walls held all the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses.
In the middle of the room sat a large desk. Everything was in order, for the current occupant had always despised a messy desk. It was the sign of a messy mind, and she had always favored neatness.
A clock sat on the desk, which currently showed the time to be 2:05. The meeting was supposed to begin at 2:00 precisely.
Along with order, Anneka valued punctuality. She was a very busy woman these days. Even during the summer, she had a number of matters to attend to. Interviewing and hiring staff was only of those matters. The newest potential member of her staff wasn't making a good impression.
She paced the room, black heels clicking against the stone floor. When the door finally opened, Anneka turned, her expression reminiscent of a Russian winter. "You are late."
Explain yourself was what her face said.Roleplay Response:It was hard telling what was more strange – the fact that he had actually managed to leave his shop and sacred sanctuary at all, or that he now found himself back walking the halls of Hogwarts. How many times had he left through these doors, thinking he would never return? Three times? Four? Geryon couldn’t remember. To be honest he didn’t even remember if he’d managed to lock up the latest delivery of highly poisonous scorpions in the shop before he left.. Oh well, hopefully Evelyn didn’t trust him enough not to check. And if not, it would be a problem for another time. Right now, the pale man was too busy letting his cold, grey eyes swoop along the floor. Up the walls. So familiar. But never home. Sure, there was always something. Always when he returned, he felt .. something. Or maybe he had just been tasting a few too many pixie treats again. Just about to say something, Geryon came to realize that Evelyn was not by his side at the moment. So strange, not having her present – if only for a short amount of time. The girl had become essential. A necessity more than the man would ever be able to recognize, even if he tried. A sort of last connection between him and the world of the living, ordinary people. Without her it just wouldn’t work. This, him or anything else. Back before the headmistress’ office. Still the same as last time he was employed. Still the same as when his father worked there. "You are late."The words cut through the air as the black-dressed figure entered the room. A smirk came to his lips. It was not only the building that did not change. “Ivanova,” he greeted – almost in the way a normal person would when faced with an old acquaintance. Choosing to believe Anneka had been missing his employ, taking into account that this was actually surprisingly punctual for being him, the man continued; “I would have come sooner, had I not been occupied with..” pausing for a moment his eyes wandered the room. “..Different matters demanding my attention.” Like being locked away in Azkaban.
PM sent to Anneka in the following 5 minutes *twirls*
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« on: 10/04/2015 at 09:54 »
 oh yeah? well i don't want that stupid seat anyway so go for it our father's faces would be priceless to watch
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« on: 08/04/2015 at 19:34 »
Dear amazing people!
I've spent hours failing coding this all over to make it look.. Well.. Like it looks now, haha! And I hope you think the update looks okay!
Can I get some love for the Crowleys? Please? Anyone? ♥
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« on: 02/08/2014 at 14:01 »
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« on: 15/07/2014 at 08:46 »
- Under construction -
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« on: 15/07/2014 at 08:46 »
ClaimedAvailable♦ Lilith Cheran-Crowley
♦ Malphas Amandeo Crowley - killed
♦ Nadya Borovsky-Crowley - killed
♦ Juda Yegor Crowley - killed
♦ Andariel Nikolay Crowley - killed
♦ Amon Crowley
♦ Semyasa Crowley
♦ Ljubi Crowley
♦ Azrael Moloch Crowley
♦ Anthea Paladin-Crowley - killed
♦ Alastair Valac Crowley - killed
♦ Asmodeus Crowley
♦ Metztli Crowley
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« on: 15/07/2014 at 08:45 »
A pure line of wizards and witches, the Crowleys date back to the 1200s – but even as far back as 500 AD the name was used. There have been several well-known people in their lines, and in the early years the name was commonly associated with the Dark Arts. Word was that the Crowleys sought immortality, and would go to any lengths to achieve it.
In newer times, the family grew strong and influential in the areas of business and politics. The family has their own company – producing fine cigars – and there has been several Crowleys working in high positions in the Ministry. Allies and family connections are strong, and marriages with other influential clans have always been important. Keeping the line solid and pure.
Nicor is the current Head of the family, taking the seat after his father Balthazar. His only son, Geryon, is next in line, but there is a lot of turmoil and worry as for how the eccentric will cope with the task when the time comes. He is far from fitting at the moment. Old man Nicor has a lot of work to do – putting out fires after his reckless son and trying to keep the family’s influence and relations intact.
Interested in being part of the family?
There are several characters up for adoption, but know that every single one of them can be changed to fit your wishes. Face claim, age, name, occupation – most of those are merely suggestions than can be altered.
You are also free to come up with more characters – everyone but Nicor and Balthazar can have more children, and you can also create a Crowley from a different branch than those I have mentioned here. I am also always interested in family ties and marriages!
Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you are interested and/or have any questions. I’d love to hear from you.
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« on: 09/11/2012 at 15:16 »
E L S E W H E R E A D U L T CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Geryon "Crow" CrowleyGender: MaleAge: 29Education: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, Slytherin
Magizoology Studies
Residence: In an apartment above his shop Occupation:Shopkeeper and MagizoologistDo 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: - Charms: 10
- Transfiguration: 12
- Divination: 3
- Summoning: 5
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:Carlo de NataleBiography: A late night in the end of October Geryon was brought into this world, as the first child of Nicor and Lilith Crowley. They had now fulfilled their duty of bringing the pure blood of their family to the next generation, and that was pretty much all the child was to them – a mission accomplished. The boy was brought up by servants of their home, and to him it felt just as normal as anything. He was an heir, and his parents had obligations and busy lives. And so did he. Homeschooling started early so the child would be prepared to bring his family honor when reaching school age. Geryon was obedient and bright, always finding an answer – even when he wasn’t sure what the question really was. There was always a way to talk oneself out of things. But he wanted to learn, and magic was fun.
When he became of age his letter from Hogwarts arrived. With the heavy weight of his family’s expectations the boy was relieved when he was put in Slytherin, as the hat also had mentioned Gryffindor. One obstacle climbed, but still many to go. One day of spring in his 3rd year Geryon found an injured crow on his way back from Hogsmeade. The animal touched something deep inside of the boy’s soul and he decided to care for it as best as he could. Making a comfortable place for it, well hidden on the castle grounds, Geryon now had a friend who he went to see whenever he could. It was both feelings of great sadness and great joy when the day came where the bird once again spread its wings and flew off, never to return. From that moment the Crowley boy’s intense interest for Transfiguration grew and he set a goal for himself – to one day become an Animagus.
He wouldn’t tell anyone, but all his free time got devoted to master the skill. Finally he succeeded, at the age of 20. The form he took was just like the one who lit the fire in his heart; a crow.
With his greatest goal now achieved it was time to move on to the next chapter. After completing his studies at Hogwarts Geryon moved forward, studying Magizoology and finally earning his Mazoologist title. For one last time Geryon took advantage of the family wealth and opened his own shop; Crowley Creatures – basically a pet shop with a great variety of animals. His love for the creepy, uncommon and rare ones started getting him into trouble with many - particularly the Ministry, from an early point. Not all the creatures Geryon would house and/or sell fit inside the rules and regulations, and his shop nearly got shut down multiple times. Luckily the man always seemed to talk himself out of the worst trouble, and ended up paying a large number of fines instead.
Yes, he had promised both himself and his family that he would never come back, asking for money – especially after he started getting into all sorts of trouble, and dishonoring the family name – which even forced him to change his shop’s name to Crow’s Creatures. But it was a hard promise to keep. Dark and shady business started to get tempting...
OTHERHow did you find us? Google
SHOPKEEPER QUESTIONSShop name: Crow's CreaturesShop Description: Fluffy ones, scaly ones, slimy ones - common or rare, they are all animals found at Crow’s Creatures! If we don’t have it, we will find it! (Just don’t tell your mother where you got it..) And if we haven’t seen it, it probably doesn’t exist. There is an animal for everyone and we are eager to help you find your best match. Need help removing your Crup’s tail? Need assistance against Doxys infesting your home? Or perhaps you’ve just always wanted to try and have a conversation with a Jarvey? Stop by and expand your horizon regarding what surrounds us in this marvelous world!
Our goal is to make good homes for our creatures, making sure they are taken care of properly, and educate people to the best of our ability in the subject of how to take care of, and interact with those we share this earth with. We wish to enlighten and remove prejudice of misunderstood creatures and animals. Would you need help at home or wish for us to take our services somewhere else? We are flexible and determined to accommodate your needs! In Crow’s handmade Guide of Creatures we are willing to bet you’ll find something you hadn’t heard of before.
We also plan to hold courses every now and then, focusing on different kinds of creatures or relevant subjects for those interested.
What purpose will this shop serve other than selling things and being the home of your character? Why would people want to RP there just for fun?It would obviously be a great place for the ones interested in animals to come and take a look at the creatures, learn more about them and meet others who share their interest. Also, most are likely to have heard the rumors about the mysterious man running this place – dealing on the edge of the law, with creatures most could only fantasize about. And is it true that he lures youngsters into mischief? Telling stories your parents wouldn’t want you to hear? And does he really have a child-eating parrot? You ouch to be curious..? I also intend to arrange gatherings for those interested where different creatures and Magizoological subjects will be the theme.
EXCEPTIONAL LEVELSWhy are you requesting higher than usual levels? e.g. Is your character a professor/auror/etc.? (1-2 sentences minimum):From his third year in school Geryon got obsessed with the idea of becoming an Animagus, and devoted all his free time to learn about it and practice to achieve this goal. After years of hard practice he succeeded at the age of 20. (I have already gotten the Animagus request approved by Admin!) I’ve also taken his age into consideration and I feel like these would be realistic levels for him. Roleplay:Reply as your character to the following:Mr. Grunch smirked as stepped into the shadows beneath the overhanging eaves at the side of the street. There was a sort of alcove here, where two buildings came together, and the wall was set back just a couple of feet to make space for a drain from the battered lead guttering. It made it difficult to see if anyone was standing there until you were almost on top of it, and the shape of the roof up above cast an almost permanent shadow even then. There were a number of such places along Knockturn Alley and Mr. Grunch knew them all. Seeing nobody was nearby, he quickly cast the concealment spell that would obscure his features, making him unrecognisable, just a blur beneath the cowl of his thick, but worn, robes. He knew his target, had identified them some time before, as they entered the Alley. He had shadowed them, discretely, and now, he knew, they were heading back out again, towards the safety of the better lit Diagon Alley. He heard the footsteps approaching. This was it, then. Just before they reached the alcove, he stepped out suddenly in front of his target, wand raised and ready. "Give me all yer galleons, and any jewellery yer got! Don't try to hide nothin', 'cos I'll know, right? Do it now!" Roleplay Response:Crow was still laughing slightly as he was leaving the Hag’s Head and felt the chilly air stroking his face. There was nothing like having a good time with some of the regulars at the Hag. Each story got crazier than the other and Crow always made his best attempt on topping them all. Oh, how his honorable mother would just die of shame if he heard him. But it didn’t matter. He just didn’t care. People here knew him as Crow, and even those who remembered the old name of his shop, or just knew he was a Crowley for other reasons didn’t really see him as one. Some people should really stop overestimating the effect of a name.
He was walking down Knockturn Alley, heading towards the less shady streets of Diagon Alley. Suddenly a man stepped out from the shadows in front of him, making him stop on the second.
"Give me all yer galleons, and any jewellery yer got! Don't try to hide nothin', 'cos I'll know, right? Do it now!"
Crow got almost annoyed with himself for being surprised. You almost had to expect encounters like this here. But he hadn’t, and now he had to react fast. His coinpurse was far from empty and he had no intention of letting this idiot get any of it. “No need to get agitated,” he said calmly. “I’ll give you what I have,” he continued, slowly reaching inside his pocket where he kept his coin. In the glimpse of a second, Geryon had gone for the wand instead, and waving it he now turned into a black crow before the robbers eyes.
Flapping his wings Geryon headed for the sky. Being in this form instantly brought a calming peace to his soul and he decided to just get out of this place. The black bird was passing the rooftops as he approached Crystal Clock Tower. There, on the street he landed, turning back to his old self. The robber should be glad he had a good day and was in a rather happy mood, if not he had been certain to claw his eyes out. Geryon adjusted his hat slightly before carrying on with his walk. He didn’t feel like spilling any blood today. Passing a patroller he still felt the need to give a heads up; “Might be a good idea taking a look in the Knockturn Alley. But I suppose you already know that.” Some things would just never change..
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