Xalvador Montclaire and the Warbling Rogue

[Xalvador Montclaire]

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Xalvador Montclaire
Gender: Male
Age: 21 – born 13 April 1951

Education: 
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Ravenclaw  '68

Residence:
Currently Xalvador is staying at The Leaky Cauldron and searching for permanent residence. Should he obtain the managerial position at The Warbling Rogue, Xalvador plans to live in one of the apartments above the pub.

Occupation:
Xal works part-time in the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of International Magic Cooperation. He also has experience as a small-town bartender and bar manager in Norway where he lived for six months. He seeks to expand his capabilities.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (example St Mungo's, the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
The Warbling Rogue needs a new owner and Mr. Montclaire would like to buy and manage the pub.

Requested Magic Levels:

• Charms: 10
• Transfiguration: 7
• Divination: 8
• Summoning: 7

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
N/A

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Shae O’Leary, Hufflepuff 3rd Year; Elias Audley, Ravenclaw 6th Year

Special Phrase:

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

Staring back at him within the gaudy, gilded bronze mirror frame was a face heavily laden with scrutiny. His appearance was not at question, though. No, Xal was pleased with his reflection, sharing the opinion of most women he encountered. It was his accommodations that grated his nerves. The tacky room was truly dreadful and he would have requested a new one if they weren’t all the same, but he was stuck with the embellishments of poor taste.

The young man tugged his at his cuffs, admiring his silver cufflinks.

One of life’s greatest ironies was Xal’s preference for style. One might say that he was a true Montclaire that way, that the French in his blood compelled his sophisticated taste. His father certainly said so, but Xal had never taken very much stock into the things his father said, especially since most of them were lies bought by the Carlisles.

Xalvador adjusted his collar. The jewel-hued blue he was wearing really played up the cerulean pools above his high cheekbones.

 Montclaire by name and Carlisle by blood, Xal was the perfect pureblood, excepting the fact that he might not be. He was top-of-the-line where manners and etiquette were concerned, he had agreed to marry some Beauchamp twit like tradition demanded, and he was a master at the demure, nearly-malicious smile that everyone seemed so fond of throwing around. He loved his mother and obeyed his father and scoffed at muggles, but all the arrogance in the world wouldn’t confirm his blood status. Money was good enough to prove it to the rest of the world.

He straightened his dark grey tie and his lips curled unto a smile.

Dashing, Felicia would tell him, ever the supportive mother. Xalvador had tried sincerely not to be mad at her when the secret slipped from his father’s lips. After all, he could see exactly why she hadn’t told him; he would have been quietly taken care of, most likely, if Ronan hadn’t stepped in to claim paternity, however false it was. Reputation was that important. Truly, he should be grateful that he’d had the upbringing he did, but he just couldn’t stop being angry that she’d kept the secret from him too.

Xal shrugged on the white jacket that matched his slacks and worked at the buttons.

Seventh year at Hogwarts had been difficult to endure. The summer before, the solidity of his identity had been suddenly compromised by a single slip of the tongue because Ronan didn’t take too kindly to Xal’s bout of teenage rebellion.  “I don’t get how it matters if I go to the reunion or not," raged angsty Xal, or something of the sort, "It’s not like I get along with them anyway." Ronan didn’t take too kindly to the boy’s newfound defiance. "You’ll go and behave like a pureblood whether you are one or not!" That was the start.

His silver pocket watch, engraved with the Carlisle crest, was a nice weight in his pocket.

Thomas and Xalvador broke a barrier that year, once they found something in common. And Xal... Why, he learned remorse, though he sure as hell would never admit it. He owed his cousin an apology for standing by while little Thomas took the abuse that Xal had somehow escaped, and he’d since been working to make up for it without actually uttering sorry. Tentatively he might call them friends, but it had taken years to get remotely close.

Shined shoes crossed the threshold as Xal left The Leaky Cauldron.

Felicia wouldn’t tell Xal the name of his father, and that was the reason he wouldn’t speak to her. Graduating from Hogwarts meant freedom to find his own answers. Instead of joining the Ministry like Ronan wished, Xalvador took off in search of his father; however, the nameless man remained ever elusive, and Ronan was not very happy with his choices. After two years away, a fair amount of groveling and an excess of submission, Xal returned to England. With his "father's" good graces and family influence, he worked himself into a cozy little Ministry position. Two years with International Magic had refined his French and his search. He had a few leads.

The streets of London were busy, but Xalvador didn’t mind walking. Muggles seemed more tolerable when he might be the son of one of them.

They were on unsteady terms, Xal and Ronan, but the one thing they agreed on was that Xal needed his own place of residence and his own agenda. Oh, he had an agenda. That’s why he was buying the pub. The Warbling Rogue would be the perfect place to bartend – he had experience from his time away, and had developed a strange fondness for listening to the woes of strangers and pouring them succor. Wizards were amusing in their problems. Witches had a fancy for sensitive bartenders.

The restaurant wasn’t busy, but neither was it bereft of patrons.  Xal frequented the tiny café Thursday mornings, typically, so it was peculiar to show up on a Sunday afternoon. The light that shone through the windows made the walls the wrong color, more orange than yellow, and the shadow from his water glass was too long. When the swinging glass door opened and a tall brunette walked in, the wizard stood from his seat and tried to recall the name of his date. "Nice to see you again, beautiful," he settled, flashing his most charming grin.


ROLEPLAY: Sambundeakin the Puffskein
Reply as your character to the following:

It was impossible for Dianne to stay out of trouble. It wasn't that she was looking for trouble, it's just that trouble always managed to find her. Today she wished she could find something equally familiar but more comforting.

The five-year old girl hugged her puffskein closer to her and brushed her face in its soft fur for comfort. She had named him herself and he was always her special pet. No she was certain she had never gone down this side street before. Her anxiety increased every second as darkness fell as she walked down the road. A loud noise came to her left and she buried her face in her pet's fur completely. The scared girl bolted the opposite way slamming the both of them into the wall of the nearest building. Tottering back a few steps she found a door a few feet to her right and ran to open it. What light there was inside spilled out into the darkness and she spilled into the room.

Once in, she was caught between the impulse to curl her cloak up more tightly around her and loosen her grip on it. She wasn't alone anymore but she was now among strangers instead, which was nearly as terrifying. Her puffskein had recovered from the shock of the wall and now was purring contentedly as the girl hugged it, causing a mildly calming effect on the girl. Gathering her courage, she marched up to the nearest person, pulled on the nearest clothing hem and blurted out in a loud voice:

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home."

She paused to draw a breath in her nearly never-ending sentence, "He misses my and his mommy."

To explain the scared girl held up the custard-colored puffskein. Sambundeakin the puffskein, however simply purred as if nothing on earth was wrong in the world.

Roleplay Response:

Xal pulled the rag from his back pocket instead of his wand and set to polishing a glass. The Warbling Rogue wasn’t so busy tonight, and it made him bored enough to put his hands to work. Sure, Tuesday was often slow, but tonight was more mundane than the rest. He should have welcomed the reprieve, after last week, school supplies week. (Truly, he pitied those fathers; if Xal had to chase around and spend galleons on miniature witches and wizards, he would seek solace in a nice firewhiskey too.) After the conglomeration of magic and muggle, tonight’s splattering was disappointing: four regulars, two new sods, and a quadrant of young witches on a mission for a wicked headache.

It was a pity that the most attractive of the bunch had become a blubbering mess as the night wore on.

The bell above the door rang as two chaps came in. The Montclaire set the clean glass lip-down with the others and pulled his pocket-watch from his tailored slacks. Nearly quarter of ten. Xalvador didn’t like lateness; it made him grumpy.

"Rich, cover me for half an hour and then take the rest of the night off, eh?" he called to the remaining employee, a table-wait – he’d already sent the rest of the staff home it was so slow.

He greeted the men and ushered them into the back room. It was small, brightly painted, used for the employees during their breaks. It smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. They had just taken a seat when a small creature came through the door (a heavy metal thing; he had no clue how the midget had pushed it open), padded across the room, and looked up at him with more adorable splendor than he could handle.

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home," the thing said, holding up...something fluffy.

For a long moment he started at the girl and her fluffy thing, and startled when it moved. Dear Merlin it was alive. The realization jolted him into action. "Rich," he called and stood, pulling open the door to the main pub area. "Richard, come here. Get this girl some crackers and find out who her mother is."
 

SHOPKEEPER QUESTIONS
Answer these questions only if you are applying to be a shopkeeper as well.

Shop name: Type The Warbling Rogue
Shop Description (200 words minimum):

The entrance to the building is a dark-stained wooden door inset with glass, upon which is frosted, "The Warbling Rogue: Pub & Inn". Overhead, a silver awning hangs from the brick exterior of the first story. The second and third stories are slatted with wide planks wood, painted dark blue. The trim around the windows and along the roof is painted light charcoal.

A small bell dangles just inside to alert the staff of visitors. From the doorway: the bar lies directly ahead, far back in the center of the opposite wall. To the left of the bar is a small hallway, where there are doors to the bathrooms and a small break room (in which there is a door to the outside) all to the left; and the double-doors to the kitchen to the right, which makes the kitchen behind the bar. In the left half of the main room extends space for many circular and square wooden tables and their wooden chairs. Against the wall to the left are booths of the same dark-stained wood and the seats have blue or grey velvet-upholstered cushions. To the right is a homey space, with blue velvet couches on a grey rug, arranged to face the fireplace in the center of the right-hand wall. A small coffee table sits between the arc of couches and the fireplace. Glass-encased torches litter the walls. The entire front wall, aside from the entrance, consists of square windows to let in light. In one window hung a Vacancy sign.

In the space to the right of the bar is a wooden staircase to the second and third floors.

The second floor contains eight rooms for the Inn, four on each side of the hallway; each room has a fully-furnished bathroom, and food and drink is available at the pub for an included room price. Breakfast is only available to guests staying in these rooms, while lunch and dinner and drinks are available to all patrons.

The third floor has three larger apartments for long-term rent, one of which has a vaulted ceiling area and a tiny circular window. Each of these apartments has a fully-furnished bathroom and completely equipped kitchen. Therefore meals at the pub are excluded from rent.
 

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?
People could come to rent rooms at the Inn for all sorts of self-serving purposes. It would be a great place to go for a night out for drinks, for a cozy conversation by the fire, a shady exchange at the bar, or a romantic get-away in a vacant room with a bottle of wine. It could be there for weekly tea-time between best mates, or a first date over pitchers of butterbeer. Endless possibilities, really.
 

[Shae OLeary]

Forgotten:

Special Phrase: Tibble's Beard of Power

[Esme Vartan]

Accepted, yo!