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Topics - Marjorie Fowl

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Elsewhere Accepted / Marjorie Fowl
« on: 26/07/2015 at 09:56 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Marjorie Fowl.
Gender: Female.
Age: 18.
Blood Status: Halfblood.

Graduated 1944, Hogwarts School.

Lydbrook, Gloucestershire

Store Clerk

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?
Applying for Crimbleton & Co. Booksellers.

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: 9.
  • Divination: 12.
  • Transfiguration: 6.
  • Summoning: 5.
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Hero Savage.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
”I can’t believe you don’t have to go to school anymore. You’re so lucky.”

Marjorie blinked.

“School sucks.”

“Edie, shut up.”

She didn’t have to turn to know her little sister was frowning. In ten seconds and with no attention paid it would turn into a tongue instead.

3… 2… 1…

Marjorie spun on her bottom to find Edith’s pink tongue in her face.

“Don’t be rude.” She muttered.

The air was clear. A perfect start to summer. The forest was quietly busy. Pausing long enough revealed a chorus of collected delicacies. The movement of deer as twigs snapped underfoot. The swish of the hawfinch as it flitted between the branches. Marjorie grinned. The light was perfect.

Edith bombed. A wave of water washed over the older girl, drenching her.

“Oi!” she roared. Her little sister simply laughed in response, kicking back in the water, ducking and diving. Edith could have been born in the water.
Marjorie smiled dryly, clenched her fist and raised her middle finger.

Her little sister didn’t get it. She wouldn’t until she left. Marjorie had hated school. Assignments and study had never suited her. Her N.E.W.Ts showed that clear enough. On the last day she had thrown her hat the highest of all, she was so thrilled to be done.

But now it was done and she had nothing to go on.

Marjorie liked best of all to do nothing. That’s what she had envisioned on that last fabulous day at Hogwarts. She would spend all summer in the Forest, swimming and lounging in the sun. Reality was different. Kathleen had seen to that. She had been home barely three days before her mother sat her down and gave her the once over. Roland and her older sisters had made their way. Now it was time for Marjorie to do the same.

In other words, “get a job.”

“Oi, Edie.”

Her fingers slid behind, plucking the bathing suit from the crease of her sun-kissed cheeks. She didn’t wait, and jumped. For one brief, sweet minute she was flying. Then, agonising cold. She plunged deep and kicked out, her toes finding the soft, sandy bottom. Her knees took the brunt of the force and she pushed off. She broke the water and her squeal echoed through the forest.

“Bloody hell, it’s freezing!”

Edith had no sympathy and was laughing so hard she took in water, choking and spluttering. Marj rolled her eyes. Her little sister had been even more arrogant than usual but Marjorie perfectly understood why. She had done the same for Clem and Alice. Marj flung out her feet with a poorly aimed splash but it was half hearted. She turned to lie on her back, face to the sky, treading water. A job. Jobs. Work. It was going to be just like school. On the upside there was money. On the downside, there was no skiving off. She sighed and Edith’s voice, finally quiet, drifted over.

“Seriously, you are SO lucky.” 

Marjorie did not turn, her grey eyes transfixed on the canopy of green shade above.


If she was a bug she could just zip up there, over those leaves, and fly off. No adults. No expectations. Just open sky. And birds. Lots of big birds to eat her up.

Marjorie smiled.

“It’s gonna be great.”

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 bubble burst and Marjorie sucked in, satisfied in the leftover crack between her teeth. Roland had always said that the time to give up gum was once you lost the flavour, but Marjorie disagreed. The time to give up gum was when your jaw got sore.

And Marjorie had a jaw of iron.


The last interview had gone terribly. It started with the manager looking at Marjorie’s school marks. If the woman had any idea about hiding emotions, she was terrible at it. The pittance on her face had sunk Marjorie’s hopes quicker than Firewhisky at an afterparty. Then there had been the actual questions. What are your long term goals. What are your strengths when working in a team. How do you feel about working Gringott’s holidays.

Marjorie kicked the ground, scuffing her leather bound toes against the cobblestone street.

Life sucked.

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


Marjorie would know Amelia Nixon a mile away. She had been above her at school but was something of a distinctive personality. Not in a way Marjorie was particularly fond of.

Marjorie sighed. Adult stuff. Right.


The shoe was most definitely broken. The heel dangled fretfully, held to the rest of the shoe by a single, pitiful strip of leather. Marjorie held it extended and offered her other hand.\\

“Finding it hard to stay on your feet?”

How did you find us? Google


character adoptables

A large halfblood family who hail from Lydbrook, Gloucestershire which sits nestled between the River Wye and the Forest of Dean. There are too many of them and thus they aren’t exactly rich. However they make up for that in spirit. Parents Walter and Kathleen are both very down to earth and loving of their overly large brood. They’ve had regular exposure to the muggle world as they all ran amok with the other Forrester kids in their village, and Walter works as a ‘mechanic’ for the locals. He can fix anything that’s broken.

Names, faces and ages are all negotiable although its preferred that names stay within the time period (1930’s). Post here or PM me if you are keen to take one!

Thanks Panda for the amazing layout C:

Roland Fowl, 21
The eldest boy. Likely to be a bit of a lad. Marjorie has seen him smoking (naughty boy) and I have large desires to see him get around on a motorcycle. Suggested PB is Jack Huston.

Clementine Fowl, 21
The eldest girl and because of this has been weighed down most of her life with the responsibility of looking out for five younger siblings. Whether she does this with dutiful grace, or is somewhat bitter and keen to shoot off as soon as possible, is up to you. Suggested PB is Milly Simmonds.

Alice Fowl, 20
Maybe feels overshadowed by her older sister and forgotten. Maybe outshines everyone. Again up to you, but she will have also had to shoulder a lot of responsibility for younger siblings which could be a nice little piece of character development. Suggested PB is Kristine Froseth.

Otto Fowl, 17
Likely to be a bit of a troublemaker and adventurous as he has never had to worry about anyone else really. The kids come from the Forest of Dean so he will have spent most of his small life running around amongst the trees, getting dirty. Suggested PB is Janis Ancens.

Edith Fowl, 16
Could be a troublemaker like her brother or the whingy baby of the family. Their ages are interchangeable as long as they remain younger than Marjorie herself. Suggested PB is Rosie Tupper.

made by pandora duke with love

Archived Applications / Marjorie Fowl
« on: 01/12/2013 at 18:40 »

Application for Hogwarts School

Name: Marjorie Lucrezia Fowl

Birthday: 2nd September

Hometown: Lydbrook, Gloucestershire


Magical Strength (pick one):

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): 3rd, 4th


ID #45
Formica pratensis  (Black-backed meadow ant)

"As part of the Formica genus nest size will be formidable. Naturally, a large impact on environment to follow. The colonisation behaviours of the pratensis species are not well known, and there are varying styles within the Formica genus. One can safely presume that whatever the case, there will be far too many in number."

The Fowls were always something of a colony. No household had run so free nor so wild since the days of Katherine Howard's beloved Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. Six children could barely be fathomed, but seven! Each one as freckle faced and tangle-tressed as the last. Perhaps Kathleen and Walter Fowl should have known better. Each had their own stories of overbred families in their ancestral lines. The Fowl name dissipated from Scotland to Jersey, to Canada and as far even as Indonesia (a strange fellow, went to live with the tribes) taking with it various forms of Fowler, Fowle and Fowl-Montgomery. Kathleen was muggle born however she was also an O'Leary, Catholic until age eleven and the owl visited with an invitation to Hogwarts School. She was one of two and so knew the relative peace and simplicity that was allowable with small families. Maybe then it was the hot Irish blood or simply her joy in small hands and feet. Either way, the family she created with Walter resembled nothing of the one she had left behind.

Perhaps Kathleen and Walter should have done differently, but as stories go, they simply didn't.

ID #90
Bombus sylvarum (Shrill carder bee)

"The queen emerges from hibernation in the spring and by summer there will be over one hundred worker bees. However these colonies are far less extensive than honey bees. This is no doubt due to the quality of the worker bees. They do the job well not just some sloppy patch up job. They can fly up to a mile away from their nest to get nectar. They're a tough lot."

Marjorie, as the fourth in line, learnt how to wash dishes early. It was not done out of duty, nor out of kindness, but simply for the fact that it required doing. It was a shame she despised dirty plates, particularly when embroidered with carnivorous sentiments of food. The feeling of grit beneath her nails caused her teeth to clench and Marjorie often wished she need not get her hands wet at all. She would use double the water and far too much soap, though nothing was said as the Fowls were far too busy refitting lost shoes and tying the backs of apron strings. Kathleen felt no shame for the presence of manual labour in her house for it was as she had experienced her own childhood, and even as the clothes iron swung underneath the tip of her wand, she was still incredulous that magic existed at all. As such, the Fowls learnt to do it all, magic or none.

ID #97
Cryptocephalus coryli (Hazel pot beetle)

"Bright red but hard to be found. No doubt it likes to stay hidden on the ground. These rhymes however are wasting my time. Likes birch and hazel, not tall trees. So not a forest dweller. It's loss."

The forest seemed to have been provided entirely for Walter Fowl. Enough room for his children to spill in, enough depth for them to get lost in, enough hours it seemed, to keep them occupied. He had found his own peace as a young boy wandering through the leafy foliage and he delighted that his sons and daughters she find the pine tree tops as thrilling to swing from. His joy and interest encouraged them all and thus the Fowls were rarely found to be indoors. Within the forest however there were to be found mini huts with gaping holes, patched together with pine firs and mud, the torn ropes of broken swings and stamped out fires strewn with lolly wrappers and leftover bread. The Fowls were by no means alone in their exploits and indeed, rarely were they together. They mixed easily with the muggle Forrester children and largely with their own age. For that, Marjorie did not think largely of going away to school until it was upon her.

ID #132
Idaea ochrata (Bright wave)

"A moth, but then not so different from a butterfly. As butterflies can be considered part of Ditrysia of the Neolepidoptera they can be classified with moths. No way to group all of the remaining taxa in a mono phyletic group, as it will always exclude one descendent lineage. Its wings are beautiful."

She was sad to leave. A more passionate fight might have been made had her older siblings not already undertaken the journey.  Her mother wept a little, more out of exhaustion than sadness. It was no new pain for her and indeed, it was of some small relief to have fewer faces to check and wash. Walter wept a great deal - he had always been rather soft hearted and the easiness of a smaller household was of little comfort to him. The smaller ones gave not a care in the world, the term did not start for another week and so they paid no mind. There was enough clamour to make up her absence. They only cared that she should leave the dog behind and so a toad was purchased by her sisters to keep her company instead.

Marjorie left on the 1st September with two suitcases, a cauldron, Sylvester the toad and, of course, her bug collection.[/color]

Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Wherever you think she would fit best! I've played plenty of Hufflepuffs so maybe something different, but then if you need writers there I'm always happy to return.

Personality: The future for Marjorie is unclear if not half for the fact that the person Marjorie will become is also unclear. She is as many of her age. There is possibly great potential in what she could achieve however her dedication to most things, both academic and extracurricular, is lacking. Her memory and understanding must be fairly good. A sleepless night spent cramming for a test the next day often sees her sail through to the middle of the bell curve - it is rare that she merely scrapes through. However nor does she excel. In Divination she rises somewhat above average, though that is due largely to her heightened interest and the close academic support of her equally interested friends.

Marjorie does participate in a number of sports and she does not shy away from having a go at things. She is something of a tomboy. Her house quidditch team has seen her play on and off for a number of years, though usually as a substitute for other sick and injured regulars. Marjorie enjoys the camaraderie of the team more than she does the actual sport, perhaps because she has no particular talent. Again, some hard work might see her improve but the impetus is not there and thus she remain entirely average.

It is not surprising then that mediocrity itself is not really Marjorie's concern. Her focus surrounds the every day: the woes of her friends, the care of her numerous siblings and generally getting by. To those that know her she is a friendly girl, at times incessantly talkative, at others quiet and passive. To strangers she may appear standoffish or rude. This does not arise from a lack of interest in others or any presumption that she is above them. Rather, it arises from Marjorie's natural tendencies. Her attention easily wanders in conversations or she may feel nervous if she runs out of things to say. Though Marjorie does enjoy a close group of friends, this behaviour has set her in bad stead with others.

Appearance: Marjorie is hardly a standout for her age. She is neither particularly short or tall, wide or thin, pretty or plain. Her hair is a deep mousy brown and exceptionally long, often kept in a thick plait or braid that runs the length of her back. Left to hang free it falls in loose waves, curling lightly at the tips, often in tangles and rarely brushed smooth. Her skin is fair and at this often troubled by a pimple or three, usually covered by makeup and slathered in bubotuber pus by night. A splay of freckles run across the bridge of her nose to the crest of her cheekbones and her shoulders too are dotted with the dark brown specks, an ode to the summer sun which so often burns them.

Marjorie's face is heart shaped and her features soft though boyish. She lacks the more delicate features of prettier girls. While her lips are plump, her mouth is wide and her nose slightly too large. Her eyebrows too are rather thick, though the foray into her teenage years has seen them pruned back regularly by nifty hands and borrowed tweezers. Marjorie, like many adolescents, feels wary of her appearance. As something of a tomboy, Marjorie does not necessarily exert any particular effort in maintaining her looks and outwardly she may appear to simply shrug away any untoward comments. However when in front of a mirror she does cast a critical eye, and the opinions of others do not slide as easily as she would have the outside world think.


They walked in a tight huddle, Marjorie at the center and her friends flanking each side. Her long brown braid swayed at her back, side to side in clockwork fashion as she took each determined step. In her arms, Marjorie still clutched the textbooks from her last Potions class.

"...And so I told him, I said, 'Well Sir, there's plenty to be getting on with if you know what I mean.' He just looked at me. Didn't say a word."

There was a snort of laughter, a giggle and a moan of exasperation. Marjorie grinned and leaned in, inviting further the confidences of her audience. They knew her all too well to know she was probably part fibbing, but then the conversations that took place in the corridors between classes were hardly the vessels of god-given truth.

"He thought I was 'avin him on. I swear."

A second round of appreciation did not arise, and Marjorie pouted slightly, understanding she had lost their attention. Talk moved the test they were due next Tuesday. She stopped in protest.

"C'mon, honest!"



Marjorie did not at first bother to turn.

“Wait up! It’s for the paper!”

This time she was not the only one. The face of Astrid Bixby was not unfamiliar. Friend of a friend of a friend. Never, however, had they spoken personally.

“What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”

"Another editorial Bixby?"

Marjorie grinned at the use of her surname, as if they were acquaintances or had ever met. Astrid's name was often to be found at the bottom of mish mash Spellbound contributions. Marjorie wasn't sure you could call it talent, though the dedication was obvious.

Pale hands fingered for her braid at the name of her neck and she drew in before her, twisting it between her knuckles as she spoke.

"Besides, depends whether they're fried or boiled doesn't it?"


Previous Characters (if applicable): Hero Savage, E.H. Battersea

How did you find us?: Google. Twelve years ago.

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