We are currently accepting new applications for Elsewhere!

Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Topics - Clay Julius Sbebbington

Pages: [1]
1

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character name:

Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Penelope Wynovain, Elidir Medraut, Lawrence Lavender, Evander Ellux, Isabelle Oliveroot, Theodore Ptolemy et al

Character age: 34

Character education: 1st year to 5th year Hogwarts (Slytherin), 6th and 7th, Salem institute.

Strength and weaknesses (details please): Clay would be the first to admit to his most obvious weaknesses. He finds them amusing and anecdotal. Something else to lend to his charm and he self assumed wit. He isn’t short of confidence about his strengths either. One of which is his love to inspire, which comes from a strange ability to identify certain traits in people and figure out what or who they need to move forward. He would be an excellent guidance councellor.

Another strength he has is confidence (which of course doubles as a weakness sometimes). He loves to help, despite being a little dismissive sometimes. He listens well, a lot better than he did in school, thanks in main point to the first collegue he had when he joined the ministry of Magic in the Dept for the control and regulation of dangerous creatures.

One of his weaknesses is followthrough. He loves to start new projects and see the excitement of others that want to join in, but finishing them is sometimes a challenge. Not when its imperative, but if its just something for him and a few others, he tends to bounce around.

All in all he is a compasionate, well rounded individual with a wonderful drive to help and teach, but someome that can sometimes get a little distracted and have to be reminded of the course he needs to keep on.

Physical description: Tall, floppy haired, cheesy smiled, suit wearing. Mousy brown hair, blue eyes, and long fingers. He walks with a little bounce and a little more swagger. He holds his head tall. Strong jaw, little gangly. Filled out since school but still lean.

Personality (nice, rude, funny etc. Paragraph please.): He can come off as a little arogant, but when you get to really know him you will realise he is a romantic little puppydog. He will stand up for those unable to do so for themselves till the end of time. He is strong willed and proactive. Loves an adventure. He is a little cutting at times to those who he feels havn’t given him or others the respect they deserve. He is fairly ambitious but not so much that he is unfocussed. He can be funny at times, but often thinks himself funnier than he is. He is caring and compassionate. More than you would expect. More thoughtful too.

Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?: He hopes to one day settle down, but he would also like to travel more. Mostly he wants to teach, inspire and help. He hopes to be a father one day too, but not quite yet. He wants to teach at Hogwarts because he thinks it is the next logical step. He misses it. Most of his formative years were spent there and he was sad he didn’t get to graduate from Hogwarts instead of Salem. He of course wants to help out, wants to mould young minds and is passionate about teaching. He had previously taken on a collegue at the ministry to train and loved it. He wants to expand on that.

Biography (500 words minimum. There is never such a thing as too much.):

Clay Julian Sbebbington was born on the 6th January 1920. He was a prince in his mother’s eyes. Clarice Emily Sbebbington was a meek young woman, too young in some ways. She married at 19 and had Clay at 21. That was the “done” thing. The marriage was arranged, but luckily for her she doted on Terrence Sbebbington, who came from blood as pure as any other. As was hers. Hence the marriage in the first place.

His childhood was nothing of note. He was adored and treated like the most important child that had ever lived. Clay never really knew what his father did for a living. He was important, and that was all that was important to clay. He liked knowing that he was special. He would continually torment his little sister, Eloise Mae Sbebbington, till she cried. He wasn’t a horrible child, but as many others before him; he felt his sister was fair game. She was only two years his junior, so big enough to try and defend herself.

One day, when he was 9, she 7, a young boy from over the estate was playing tag with them in their rather large back garden. He saw Clay and his sister’s interaction and thought it would be fun to join in. He pushed Eloise over, who hit her head on a plant pot. That was the day Clay stopped tormenting his sister. He could make her cry, that was one thing, but no one else could touch her. The boy went home with a bust lip.

Of course the parents had come round to complain about the state of their sons face, but Clay had only half been punished. He had stuck up for his sister, which in his Father’s eyes was admirable. Father is important, and so am I.

Most of his lessons he learnt from father. Like how to treat girls. They liked doors holding open for them, pretty presents and whispering in their ears. (Though what those whispers were he had no idea, he figured they were secrets and locations of the best worms to dig up in the garden). Friends, friends were people who looked up to you because you were important and bossed them around. His father would have friends for dinner. The women he would flatter, and the men he would hand cigars and tell jokes to. They always laughed. So when school came, Clay took to it like a fish to Jell-O, so in other words, he floundered.

For the first year anyway.

This friend business wasn’t so easy after all. No one knew he was important there. What’s more, no one seemed to care. Oh there were the few that took his instruction, but he didn’t care for those. They were not his equals. They were sheep. The professors didn’t treat him like a prince. That was the most shocking thing of all. Old people usually adored him, and now they were giving him work to do and telling him off for having fun! He was not amused in the slightest.

In time he learned. To catch flies, it did well to use honey, not vinegar. Shouting got you nowhere with teachers. Only backache and detentions. His charm began to grow; he cultivated it from year to year, doing his best to wrap certain people round his finger, just as his mother was. That was all he needed to do. At least that’s what he thought.

He was lucky enough to meet a few friends. Close ones. Ones that he didn’t feel the need to manipulate or brow beat. But now fourth year was rapidly approaching. More work, (more detentions no doubt) and lots, lots more fun.


When he was at the end of his 5th year, his parents announced that they would be moving to America on business. He was not at all happy about this but he went along with it. He was enrolled at the Salem Institute. He did well and finished his school career with good grades. Not the best but no where near the worst.

After that he helped with his father in his business for a small while before deciding to make the move back to England, London. He joined the Ministry of Magic as a member of the Dept for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures. He enjoyed it a lot, but would spend a lot of his spare time working on his spell work and potion brewing. There was a certain kind of calm that he found when making potions. His mother was a particular fan of his burn healing paste.

SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
(Please respond to to this in third person past tense. Do not write the other characters' reactions. Only your own.)

It 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:


He was late. He knew it, or, well, he was going to be. It was unavoidable, and yet his frustration grew at an exponential rate. This interview meant a lot to him, possibly more than anything else had. He was angry at himself, and moreover, at the medi-wizard that had held him up.

He walked briskly through the familiar grounds at Hogwarts. His disappointment and anger grew. He had meant to set off EARLY!! He had wanted to be here in -plenty- of time. Plenty. So he could wander lazily through the grounds, take it all in. The sights, the smells, the feelings. The unique feel of the sun on your face as it bounced of the great lake. There was nothing like it. He hadn’t been here for nearly 20 years. Now he had to rush past everything. Past the lake, through the grounds, rush through the doors. Past all of his old classrooms. Past his favourite make-out spoot. Past his favourite staircase and up to the Headmistress’s office.

He hadn’t had time to enjoy or savour any of it. Not while there was still hope anyhow. If the interview went baddly, or he was informed he would not be getting the post, the trip back out of the grounds would be soured. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as well. He wouldn’t have that “I could be here again” hope. They would be dashed. Had he been here on time, he would have got that. That would have been a certain. Now nothing was certain and he hated uncertainty!

As Clay seated himself across from the severe woman sitting before him, he hoped his features had been arranged into something resembling apology and sincerity. He blinked. “Im sorry” he offered. His breath was coming in quicker gasps than he would like. He was out of shape.

“My sister is in St Mungo’s at the moment. Pregnancy complications. Her husband if out of the country on business and I am her prenatal appointment partner while he is gone”. He blinked again, and pushed his glasses up his nose. He didn’t wear them often, but he hoped they added a “Professory” look to his strangely angular face.

“The Healer in charge of her case was on an emergency call, and was late for her appointment”. He took a deep breath, much like a swimmer breaking the surface. “I couldn’t even send word that I might be late” he insisted, trying to convey to her how sorry he was. “But I couldnt leave Eloise alone. Her disposition of nervous as of late. It’s her first child”.

He smoothed over his hair, his breathing steadied now and clasped his hands in front of him. “I really am very sorry. This is not indicative of my usual time keeping practices”.




2

   

Transfer Application




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Clay Julius Sbebbington

Birthday: Jan 6th 1958

Hometown: London

Bloodline: Pureblood

Current Levels: These will hopefully be his levels after this year at Hogwarts and his Returning points get put on...even though he is returning to a diff school) C6D3T5S6

Current Year: 5th

Year Requested: Going into 6th Please

Reason for Transfer:
I would like to Transfer Clay from Hogwarts to Salem, as his parents are expanding into America, and are relocating IC....OOC I am bringing in another student, and would like to keep Crystal at hogwarts, plus Id love to be a part of all the new plans at Salem (whatever they might be! :D )

Biography:
Clayton Julius Sbebbington was born on the 6th January 1958. He was a prince in his mother’s eyes. Clarice Emily Sbebbington was a meek young woman, too young in some ways. She married at 19 and had Clay at 21. That was the “done” thing. The marriage was arranged, but luckily for her she doted on Terrence Sbebbington, who came from blood as pure as any other. As was hers. Hence the marriage in the first place.

His childhood was nothing of note. He was adored and treated like the most important child that had ever lived. Clay never really knew what his father did for a living. He was important, and that was all that was important to clay. He liked knowing that he was special. He would continually torment his little sister, Eloise Mae Sbebbington, till she cried. He wasn’t a horrible child, but as many others before him; he felt his sister was fair game. She was only two years his junior, so big enough to try and defend herself.

One day, when he was 9, she 7, a young boy from over the estate was playing tag with them in their rather large back garden. He saw Clay and his sister’s interaction and thought it would be fun to join in. He pushed Eloise over, who hit her head on a plant pot. That was the day Clay stopped tormenting his sister. He could make her cry, that was one thing, but no one else could touch her. The boy went home with a bust lip.

Of course the parents had come round to complain about the state of their sons face, but Clay had only half been punished. He had stuck up for his sister, which in his Father’s eyes was admirable. Father is important, and so am I.

Most of his lessons he learnt from father. Like how to treat girls. They liked doors holding open for them, pretty presents and whispering in their ears. (Though what those whispers were he had no idea, he figured they were secrets and locations of the best worms to dig up in the garden). Friends, friends were people who looked up to you because you were important and bossed them around. His father would have friends for dinner. The women he would flatter, and the men he would hand cigars and tell jokes to. They always laughed. So when school came, Clay took to it like a fish to Jell-O, so in other words, he floundered.

For the first year anyway.

This friend business wasn’t so easy after all. No one knew he was important there. What’s more, no one seemed to care. Oh there were the few that took his instruction, but he didn’t care for those. They were not his equals. They were sheep. The professors didn’t treat him like a prince. That was the most shocking thing of all. Old people usually adored him, and now they were giving him work to do and telling him off for having fun! He was not amused in the slightest.

In time he learned. To catch flies, it did well to use honey, not vinegar. Shouting got you nowhere with teachers. Only backache and detentions. His charm began to grow; he cultivated it from year to year, doing his best to wrap certain people round his finger, just as his mother was. That was all he needed to do. At least that’s what he thought.

He was lucky enough to meet a few friends. Close ones. Ones that he didn’t feel the need to manipulate or brow beat. But now, things were about to change. Dramatically. He was bound for America. No amount of pleading, tantrums, or the like would discourage his parents. They had decided. They were moving and Clay was to be uprooted from the place he admired the most, to attend a school where he would be the "new kid".
Well at least he was going into sixth year, and not third. That had to be something, didnt it? Surely age and experience were paramount?


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

[Beauxbatons] Ecole Request:
Culinary Arts / Humanities / Literary / Performance / Studio Art

[Hogwarts] House Request:
Gryffindor / Ravenclaw / Hufflepuff / Slytherin

[Salem] Society Request:  Knight

Personality: A little high and mighty, but has calmed down under the influence of a few better people at Hogwarts. Loves the ladies, very much a ladies man. Curt, sometimes abrupt, bad temper. However, he is very studious, and is rather intelligent and of course....very Proud.


Appearance: Tall, filling out nicely but still a little gangly, floppy hair, blue eyes and rather angular features, but...very distinctive. Oddly attractive.


3
Archived Applications / Clay Julius Sbebbington
« on: 17/12/2011 at 22:52 »
THE BASICS
Name: Clay Julius Spebbington (a.k.a Juju, Clayston and Sbebs)

Former Character's Name (if you had one): Penelope E Wynovain, Tyler Bradley, Lutensia, Oscar Templeton, and Rupert Myridor

CHARACTER DETAILS
House Request:

Clay would most likely be in Slytherin. He comes from a long line of Slytherin’s. He doesn’t much like authority. He will abide, as he knows what’s good for him, but if he can get away with breaking any and every rule then he will. The reason I am leaning more towards Slytherin is his knack for manipulation. He has good friends, a few very close ones, but the rest are merely…useful.

Year:  4 or 5 please

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination

Biography:

Clay Julian Sbebbington was born on the 6th January 1958. He was a prince in his mother’s eyes. Clarice Emily Sbebbington was a meek young woman, too young in some ways. She married at 19 and had Clay at 21. That was the “done” thing. The marriage was arranged, but luckily for her she doted on Terrence Sbebbington, who came from blood as pure as any other. As was hers. Hence the marriage in the first place.

His childhood was nothing of note. He was adored and treated like the most important child that had ever lived. Clay never really knew what his father did for a living. He was important, and that was all that was important to clay. He liked knowing that he was special. He would continually torment his little sister, Eloise Mae Sbebbington, till she cried. He wasn’t a horrible child, but as many others before him; he felt his sister was fair game. She was only two years his junior, so big enough to try and defend herself.

One day, when he was 9, she 7, a young boy from over the estate was playing tag with them in their rather large back garden. He saw Clay and his sister’s interaction and thought it would be fun to join in. He pushed Eloise over, who hit her head on a plant pot. That was the day Clay stopped tormenting his sister. He could make her cry, that was one thing, but no one else could touch her. The boy went home with a bust lip.

Of course the parents had come round to complain about the state of their sons face, but Clay had only half been punished. He had stuck up for his sister, which in his Father’s eyes was admirable. Father is important, and so am I.

Most of his lessons he learnt from father. Like how to treat girls. They liked doors holding open for them, pretty presents and whispering in their ears. (Though what those whispers were he had no idea, he figured they were secrets and locations of the best worms to dig up in the garden). Friends, friends were people who looked up to you because you were important and bossed them around. His father would have friends for dinner. The women he would flatter, and the men he would hand cigars and tell jokes to. They always laughed. So when school came, Clay took to it like a fish to Jell-O, so in other words, he floundered.

For the first year anyway.

This friend business wasn’t so easy after all. No one knew he was important there. What’s more, no one seemed to care. Oh there were the few that took his instruction, but he didn’t care for those. They were not his equals. They were sheep. The professors didn’t treat him like a prince. That was the most shocking thing of all. Old people usually adored him, and now they were giving him work to do and telling him off for having fun! He was not amused in the slightest.

In time he learned. To catch flies, it did well to use honey, not vinegar. Shouting got you nowhere with teachers. Only backache and detentions. His charm began to grow; he cultivated it from year to year, doing his best to wrap certain people round his finger, just as his mother was. That was all he needed to do. At least that’s what he thought.

He was lucky enough to meet a few friends. Close ones. Ones that he didn’t feel the need to manipulate or brow beat. But now fourth year was rapidly approaching. More work, (more detentions no doubt) and lots, lots more fun.



ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

Personality:
Clay is smooth. Or he likes to think he is. Very calculated, there is always a plan. He doesn’t like to be humiliated and is not fond of authority. On a good day he is perfectly charming, humorous and the life of the party. On a bad day…. hide. He likes girls. He dislikes girls that don’t like him. Simple.

Appearance:
Clay is tallish for a fourth year, and still a little gangly. A lot gangly in fact. He likes to slick his hair into a rather old-fashioned style, but it certainly has the desired effect. He likes to stand out. He has an understated smart/casual dress sense. Quite defined bone structure. Green/grey eyes and a goofy smile.


SAMPLE ROLEPLAY

Option I:

Blimey, the Great Hall was packed. It seemed like everywhere a guy looked there was some clown waving around a House banner or yelling about the game.

'Can you believe it?' 'No way!' 'This must be the biggest upset in Hogwarts Quidditch history...'

Stupid Quidditch.

James flopped into an empty seat at the end of the table, shoved an empty plate out of the way, and let his head sink onto his crossed arms, squishing his freckled nose down flat against the tabletop. He wasn't sure why he'd even bothered to come here, since he definitely wasn't hungry. He'd probably never eat again, in fact. He didn’t deserve to eat. He hadn't stopped in the locker room to change out of his muddy, sweaty uniform after the game either, because he was pretty sure he probably didn't deserve to be clean too; and anyway he couldn't stand to see the looks on his team mates' faces after he blew their chance at winning one of the biggest games they had ever played.

Just one lousy shot. That's all it would have taken. If he could have just got that one stupid foul shot to go through that one stupid hoop, they could have won and he wouldn't have been the biggest blockhead in the entire school.

As if to prove the point, half the people at the next table suddenly broke into a loud victory chant. James pressed his face further into his arms to hide the bright red blotches he could feel creeping up his cheeks. That was it. He was just going to have to run away and move to Nova Scotia. He'd just cost the three-year-in-a-row Champions the Quidditch Cup! How do you ever live that one down for crying out loud? He was only a second year and he was going to spend the rest of his life as 'that dumb cry-baby kid who dropped the Quaffle!'

It felt like every set of eyes in the room was boring into him, and James couldn't stand it anymore. He jerked himself back up from the table and stomped right back out of the Hall the same way he had come in. As he stormed into the quieter hallway outside, he could hear footsteps somewhere behind him. James rounded on the sound and began to shout, his brown eyes shining with tears. "WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"

Sample Roleplay Response: Type in your response here.

Clay liked books. He wasn’t one of those Birdbrains (although the girls of that particular house seemed to like boys of his). This was the reason why he currently had “A history of Conjuring and Summoning, the early early years” in his hands. He was leaning idly against the wall, outside the great hall. He had a plan. He always had a plan.

When a miss Juniper Kedrow came bobbing out of the hall, after her meal, he would accidentally drop the book in front of her. One of two things would happen. She would see it, and pick it up. Ravenclaw’s couldn’t stand to see books mistreated, and he would gratefully take it from her, thanking her whilst flashing the most dazzling smile. The kind that stuck in a girl’s head for days. Or she would trip over it and he would of course scoop to her rescue, from which the same outcome would occur. It was fool proof, and genius.

So was Clay.

Footsteps approached and he slyly watched over the top of his pages. Was this her, with he flaming red head and interesting freckles. Dang, no. It was that idiot from Quidditch. He couldn’t be bothered with him now, even if the boy looked like he was about to cry. What a whimp.

As he looked back to the doorway, he was just in time to watch Juniper float by, with a gaggle of her girlfriends. OH BLAST IT ALL! His inner monologue began to cuss out the loser boy in a long and fluent string of rather uncouth profanity. He started towards the stairs. Better return the book. It was no good to him now. (He had already read it for class anyway), when the boy rounded on him.

"WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture?!"

Clay stopped dead. His eyes narrowed and a small smile crept across his face. His cheeks were already flushed a little with annoyance from his spectacular plan being foiled. “A picture? Oh, goodness, for me? Humble old me? I’m not worthy!” he threw his hands up in mock adoration and then the smile vanished.

”A picture of you? Why the hell would I want a picture of such a pitifully poor excuse for a chaser? Why don’t you just go and crawl back under the rock you came from. Better yet go write a letter to your mother telling her what a cretin you are! I’m sure she will be thrilled! And…stay…out…of…my…way!” The last few words he almost spat into the boys face with such venom that he could feel it bubbling in his chest.

If there was one thing that should be taught at Hogwarts, it was anger management. But then again, even if it were, Clay would have skipped out on those lessons anyway. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the large front doors. He needed to walk and clear his head.

Pages: [1]