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Messages - Tyr Webb

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Elsewhere Accepted / Tyr Webb - Elsewhere Adult
« on: 30/01/2016 at 19:56 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Tyr Webb
Gender: Male
Age: 30 (Feb 10, 1916)
Blood Status: Halfblood

Education:
Hogwarts, Ravenclaw ‘33

Residence:
Apartment in London

Occupation
Herbologist

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?
Naw

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: 8
  • Divination: 10
  • Transfiguration: 8
  • Summoning: 6
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Nope!

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Linc Litch, & squad

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

The apartment was small, but it was a fine size for Tyr. On a corner of the third floor of four, it wasn’t anything fancy, nothing expensive or glamorous, definitely not the ritziest of places. It was affordable, and that was enough for the man. All Tyr really needed from a home was three things: a place to come back to, a bed, and enough space for all of his plants.

The last bit because-- quite literally-- the place was covered. It had been enough room when he’d first moved in years ago, but now… Leaves and stems and bodies of mostly green sat in decorated pots of various heights and widths on the floors, hung in the tall windows and lay on the sills, lined the shelves on white walls like one might with knickknacks, or hovered from help of enchantments several feet off the ground. Some of the plants bloomed bright flowers, others held bulbous pustules, a few even waved long tentacles in the morning sun light. A large smattering were magical, the rest muggle in their sentience but still useful in potions and salves.

Some just simply looked neat; he didn’t judge.

Tyr Webb did not only hold the title of Herbologist, something he studied long and hard for, but those closest to him would say he had the soul of a collector and the drive of an adventurer. His job saw him in all manner of places, to the far east for the likes of witch's ganglion and other rarities, or just to a nearby town to take care of some rabid fanged geranium. Whatever it may of been, Tyr was up for it, and so he found himself well-traveled as he ended his twenties-- something the war and the takeover had put a bit of a strain on, but he never found himself bored or without countless opportunities regardless.

So a bed. A bed was his best and kindest friend, and not just at the end of the day. At any point in time one could find Tyr sound asleep, or just waking, drinking coffee in his pajamas… His beard was never anything less than a scruffy thicket, even on his best days. Calls for work were often spontaneous, tending to take anywhere from a few hours to a few days (in which case he was glad he was in no short supply of friends he could count on to water his leafy babies for him). He thanked Merlin often that he woke just as easily as he slept, because sometimes the summons happened at night, and so Bed Time became 9am.

But plants we not always work, he never considered it so. On slow days, which were rather often, he pruned or re-potted, he drew their progress in journals, sang out-of-tune while he watered them… Nature was a beautiful thing, and Tyr was determined to see it all.

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:

The fern was large, leafy. Tyr’s arms wrapped around the base of the large terracotta pot with only some difficulty, his head stuck between branches that framed his face and were proving to be difficult to see through. The leaves bobbed with each step he took, tickling his nose like an annoying fringe of bang. He smiled through it nonetheless.

A simple hovering charm could have helped things but the crowd was much too busy for it now. He didn’t want to risk someone toppling over it or bumping it into a wall. He’d wait until he got to a thinner part of the crowd and--

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!”

Blinking through the greenery, Tyr came to a stop as he peered around for the source of the voice. It wasn’t until a rather large wall of a body finally thudded by that he spotted the girl on the street, clambering for her shoe. It was only for a second, and then the crowd went back to obscuring her. Tyr’s brow furrowed. It didn’t seem like many else really gave a damn.

“S’cuse me, s’cuse me,” Tyr spoke loudly, elbowing his way through the crowd, parting it like petting a cats fur backwards, “Plant coming through! Excuse me," He made it as fast as he could, and when he did he placed the pot on the ground at his side, standing next to it to create a small dam, blocking the flow of feet so that the girl might reach her shoe.

A thick, calloused hand was reached out as he asked, “Are you alright?”

OTHER
How did you find us? a golden flower told me

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