Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Caesar Tempest
Gender: Male
Age: 19 (31 October 1950)
Blood Status: Pure

Education: 
Gokstad Academy (1961-1968)

Residence:
Chelsea, London, United Kingdom

Occupation
Photographer

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?
No

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 Exceptional Levels special request form here.

• Charms: 10
• Divination: 10
• Transfiguration: 7
• 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:
Timothy Winchester, et al.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
The first eight years of Caesar’s life were spent reconciling with anonymity.

You see, just a few days after his birth, the then nameless child was placed on the doorstep of a wizarding orphanage in a small town outside of Manchester. As far as the matrons could all tell, the baby was perfectly healthy, and even from a proper pureblooded stock. They imagined that with his blood, he’d probably not be with them long. After all, wouldn’t some pureblood family love to have a brand new baby?

And yet, he wasted there for quite some time.

This particular orphanage was not one that saw much in the way of success. It’s location, it’s small size, and it’s tendency to house problematic children all worked against the favor of this one lucky one prize. It was a rare thing that any potential parents came knocking on the small, aging orphanage’s door to begin with, but whenever they did they were typically shuffling away from the troubled children long before they could ever make it to the baby.

As that baby, granted the name Caesar by the matrons, aged, he quickly learned to repeat the same behaviors as the older, troubled children in the orphanage. By the time he was four years old, he was just as much a menace as they were, further lowering his prospects of being adopted. The thing about him though is that he had a tendency to push a little further than his peers did. While none of the kids at the orphanage could be considered angels, most of them had some definite lines in the sand. Not Caesar. It seemed that he thrived off of trouble, lived and breathed the rebellion. He was reared by his environment to be a bad kid, but somewhere along the line he decided to be the worst of them all.

At just six years old, there were quite a few kids there older than him that were afraid of him. This of course meant that potential parents stayed far away. This constant stream of rejection created an unbreakable cycle: Caesar learned how to live life with bad kids and in turn became one himself, which led to him being an undesirable adoptee, which only pushed him further into his darker and rebellious attitude. One could only take being told no so many times before they simply gave themselves over to their worst inclinations.

This all changed at the age of eight.

Charles Tempest, the head of the elite pureblood Tempest family hailing from Wales, found his way to the then dilapidated, aging orphanage. His wife, Mary Ellen, had been unable to produce him an heir despite multiple attempts. In desperation, they searched high and low for a pureblood child to continue their legacy. Through the grapevine, Charles had been made aware of the existence of a pureblooded child outside of Manchester who’d been on the market for years. This forecasted a problem, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Charles arrived and asked for Caesar explicitly.

The adoption was completed expeditiously, and off Caesar went into a new home, no longer an anonymous storm cloud terrorizing the only home he’d ever known.

Life didn’t however turn grand. Charles and Mary Ellen were not interested in a child to love and cherish, but a vessel with which to ensure their family continued marching on. Mary Ellen resented Caesar deeply, viewing him as a constant reminder that she was unable to have a child of her own. She rarely spoke to him, and when she did it was never something positive. Charles was more hands on, but only to mold the boy into being what he needed to be. At the age of eleven, they sent Caesar off to Gokstad—Hogwarts, they felt, was too lowbrow.

Knowing exactly how his guardians—never parents, not to him—felt about him and having no incentive to change, Caesar continued his behavior pattern from the orphanage. As he got older, wiser, bigger, and tougher, he became more reckless and more feared. He was a notorious bully, dreaded by his professors, and always the first to dive headfirst into making everyone’s life hell. The only positive trait he picked up at school was a passion for photography, a skill he has become quite good at.

Upon his graduation, his guardians insisted that he must get away. They wished to live their lives in peace and said that he need only return to the manor when it was his time to take charge of the family. They agreed he would move to a posh flat in Chelsea and would be supplied with a monthly allowance of an amount that’d make most normal people’s eyes water. The condition was that he’d get his money, get his house, and live a free and unburdened and unsupervised life as long as he left his guardians alone and didn’t embarrass the family.

It was a deal he took, and since his graduation has been living in Chelsea, working a paid gig as a photographer for events and the media (such as the Daily Prophet) for his own amusement. On the side, to add to his earnings from his allowance and his work, he is known to partake in shady, dark, under the table work with anyone and everyone with decent propositions for him.

One could say that he never really has evolved much from the rotten little child his situation molded him into, but he would disagree.

Yes, he was still a rotten little thing, but he had evolved now into being so, so, so much more talented at it.

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:
Diagon Alley was perhaps Caesar’s least favorite place in the world to shop, but it was irritatingly unavoidable sometimes. Someone somewhere in history had set the dumbfounding ground rule that it was to be the hub of commerce for what seemed like the whole country at times, and that for whatever reason, it was going to be impossible to find certain services anywhere but there. Of course, it wasn’t more than a hop, skip, and jump from his flat, but that didn’t make it any less of an inconvenience at the best of times.

At the worst of times, like it was as he stepped onto the high street with a scowl carved into his face, it was an absolute zoo. This way and that, people went about their business, all absorbed in their own little worlds and paying little mind to what sort of havoc they were all contributing to.

With a sigh, he stepped out onto the street and tried to mold into the crowd. He was a tall man, so it wasn’t hard to assert himself, but he still felt people bumping into him and swiping at his side as he passed by. He could feel his irritation mounting, and this was only enhanced by the sound of a shrill, bitter voice asking for help from somewhere in the horde. He moved toward it, not because he wanted to provide the requested assistance, but because he had no other choice to what with the current of the crowd.

When he did finally manage to locate the source, he found a young woman frantically searching the ground, whining about a broken heel. No one around was stopping or noticed to help her, and she looked rather pitiful if you asked Caesar.

”Oh well,” he thought. She ought to be more careful next time.

And with that, he continued on his way.



OTHER
How did you find us? Google
[/list]