Post by Welly Upton on Feb 3, 2012 15:55:39 GMT -5
Name: Maxwell “Welly” James Upton
Age: 44
Birthdate/place: February 2, 1992 // Surrey-upon-Thames, England
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Family: Muggleborn
Appearance:
Hair: Mousy brown hair, combed neatly.
Eyes: An average green-brown.
Build/height- Standing at 5’7”, Welly’s build is slight, only emphasized by his slouch.
General Description- Welly does not stand straight. He never got into the habit as a child, and has always stood in a slight stoop. This only emphasizes his short stature. Although he is slight of build, his clothes do hide a small potbelly. He does not like physical activity and his frame shows this also.
His clothing of choice is jeans and tshirts, and as his workplace has no dress code, they are the staple of his closet. Altogether he is a rather forgettable figure, one who is there and when gone, swiftly gone from the mind as well.
Possessions- Perseus - A sleek, black cat of five years, Perseus (or Pers, as he is called) is a spitfire of a cat who deigns to acknowledge few but his human, and can be quite vicious to those who he deems unworthy of his favor. Welly is the only human he will allow liberties.
Personality:
Temperment/Mental Attributes- Despite his unassuming exterior and lazy behavior, Welly is very arrogant. He believes he is deserving of far more accolades and praise than he gets. It is his right to be recognized as the superior man he is. He is petty and childish, clutching at things, looking for any sort of recognition or praise. He firmly believes he is denied his just dues, and after twenty-odd years of unseen service as a crime reporter for the Prophet, he is finally determined to make his mark.
He wanted press at first, but soon learned to nurture the taste for violence that had followed him through life. He found that experimenting on his captives produced newer and greater results, and he revels in the glory he’s discovered. Man, woman or child, it matters not. Each one is different, each one is special. Sloppy in life he may be, but he’s obsessed with his new hobby, and takes care to leave no evidence. The only outside outlet for this is his reporting, he always gets the scoop first. As if he would let anyone else report his stories.
Alliance- The Daily Prophet, insofar as it serves his own interests.
Alignment- Lawful Evil
Employment&Education:
-Adults-
Former House- Gryffindor
Job- Crime Reporter for the Daily Prophet
Employer- Daily Prophet
OWLs/NEWTs- His school years were entirely ordinary, and his grades were barely passing.
Other:
Magical Skills- Anything special? If applicable
Patronus- Welly can only rarely conjure a corporeal patronus, but when he does, it takes the form of a cat.
Wand- Yew, 9 inches, rather inflexible. Phoenix feather core.
Goals/Aspirations- Optional
Other Information-
History-
Born to the remnants of an old Muggle family, Maxwell was the only surviving child of his mother, an older woman who soon took to her bed as an ‘invalid,’ and his father, a man who had a name but nothing more to mark the former glory of his house. He had one older sister, who died in early childhood.
His mother was of an old family, who still had reach and clout. They were angry and ashamed that she had married so below her station, a penniless man of a tattered old name, practically no one at all. The terror of Maxwell’s childhood was his maternal grandmother, who came to live with them after his mother retired to live as an invalid. He has many memories of the old, wrinkled woman berating him to stand straight, to behave properly, to use his manners. He was an Ellwood of Eastmarch, and if he had no right to a title it was his own mother’s fault for marrying below her station.
At first a happy household, despite its malfunctions, things started to truly go sour when his older sister drowned at the age of eight. Little Victoria had been the light of his strict Grandmother's life, the one thing she didn't see as a screw-up in her daughter's life. The family lived on Elizabeth's money, a small stipend that was the only acknowledgment she received. It wouldn't do for an Ellwood of the Eastmarch to be poverty-stricken, even if she were struck from the will and shunned. Only her widow mother even acknowledged her existence.
It was a strange relationship all around. Caitlin Ellwood resented her daughter and her lowborn husband, but she was Elizabeth’s strongest supporter. She constantly badgered both Maxwell and Elizabeth’s husband, managing the household in Elizabeth’s infirmity,
Maxwell was trained to believe he was of a superior breed, that life would be easy for him. He deserved the best in life, his mother’s poor darling son. His father was around less and less as he grew older, until he disappeared completely, abandoning his family when Maxwell was nine.
Maxwell adopted a kitten when he was eight, a young, scruffy ball of fur he found in the alleyway. Shortly after his mother discovered fleas hopping in her child’s hair, the kitten disappeared, and Maxwell was sent to his room after a thorough bathing and scolding.
When his father returned from London, he brought a young cat, striped black and grey and of better breeding. In his anger at the loss of his kitten and this attempt to replace it with a ‘better’ version, Maxwell’s magic manifested for the first time. A strong force blew his father into the wall, breaking ribs and killing the kitten. Maxwell ran to his room in tears.
He eventually learned to control this strange power of his, and he discovered something else as well—the power to hurt. He couldn’t hit back at some things, but he could take out his frustration and fury on others.
He was sent to Hogwarts when he was eleven, his grandmother choosing to ignore the unnaturalness of the school and instead admonishing him one last time that he was an Ellwood of the Eastmarch, that he deserved recognition, and that he was expected to do his best in school.
Maxwell’s school years were mediocre. After being assigned to Gryffindor, he spent a good deal of his time trying to ingratiate himself with other students. He made few friends, but he was convinced of his own superiority. If they did not wish to be his friend, they would know better when he was recognized for who he was.
He continued his experiments, they providing a measure of control for his life. As he settled into school they decreased in frequency, until eventually he left them behind, only a poor memory. He adopted a cat in his third year, the young kitten becoming his one true friend.
His grandmother died when he was in his fifth year of school, he didn’t bother to return for the old harridan’s funeral. Now it was only his mother and himself, alone in the empty house but for a few servants. He spent his summers there, sometimes never seeing his mother for weeks on end.
After his graduation he moved into a small flat in London, searching for a job. Writing had always been one of his outlets, and pain and death still drew him, so when a job opened at the Prophet, he was quick to take the job of crime reporter. He settled into a rut, of arrogance and mediocrity. He became a small man, simply living day to day, year after year. With no one to prod him, he lived but did not live up to his own expectations, the expectations of his family. He lived alone, with just his cats for company.
He served the Masked lady for a time, fading back into the shadows after her defeat. Years went by, until his mother’s death. He didn’t attend the funeral of his parent, instead he inspected his life. He wasn’t getting the praise he deserved. Others mocked him, making little of his considerable abilities.
Eventually his experiments began again. Eventually, he learned a man is much more interesting than an animal. Unable to let his work remain unrecognized, he wrote the story of his crimes.
His stories are full of outrage, raging against the monster who leaves men, women and children mutilated and dead in the streets. Who is the killer, they ask. Ministry Law Enforcement is urged to take the man off the streets. His stories sell Prophets by the bundle, and his byline is a household name.
Last year he took a Hogwarts student by chance, an accident. A lucky accident. He had fun with the youngest of his victims yet. Since he dumped the body in early February, he has taken no new victims. He waits, letting time pass as the wizarding world whispers in fear of him. He is respected, as the reporter who wants the monster off the streets. He is feared, as the monster in the dark. His full due is coming.
Age: 44
Birthdate/place: February 2, 1992 // Surrey-upon-Thames, England
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Family: Muggleborn
Appearance:
Hair: Mousy brown hair, combed neatly.
Eyes: An average green-brown.
Build/height- Standing at 5’7”, Welly’s build is slight, only emphasized by his slouch.
General Description- Welly does not stand straight. He never got into the habit as a child, and has always stood in a slight stoop. This only emphasizes his short stature. Although he is slight of build, his clothes do hide a small potbelly. He does not like physical activity and his frame shows this also.
His clothing of choice is jeans and tshirts, and as his workplace has no dress code, they are the staple of his closet. Altogether he is a rather forgettable figure, one who is there and when gone, swiftly gone from the mind as well.
Possessions- Perseus - A sleek, black cat of five years, Perseus (or Pers, as he is called) is a spitfire of a cat who deigns to acknowledge few but his human, and can be quite vicious to those who he deems unworthy of his favor. Welly is the only human he will allow liberties.
Personality:
Temperment/Mental Attributes- Despite his unassuming exterior and lazy behavior, Welly is very arrogant. He believes he is deserving of far more accolades and praise than he gets. It is his right to be recognized as the superior man he is. He is petty and childish, clutching at things, looking for any sort of recognition or praise. He firmly believes he is denied his just dues, and after twenty-odd years of unseen service as a crime reporter for the Prophet, he is finally determined to make his mark.
He wanted press at first, but soon learned to nurture the taste for violence that had followed him through life. He found that experimenting on his captives produced newer and greater results, and he revels in the glory he’s discovered. Man, woman or child, it matters not. Each one is different, each one is special. Sloppy in life he may be, but he’s obsessed with his new hobby, and takes care to leave no evidence. The only outside outlet for this is his reporting, he always gets the scoop first. As if he would let anyone else report his stories.
Alliance- The Daily Prophet, insofar as it serves his own interests.
Alignment- Lawful Evil
Employment&Education:
-Adults-
Former House- Gryffindor
Job- Crime Reporter for the Daily Prophet
Employer- Daily Prophet
OWLs/NEWTs- His school years were entirely ordinary, and his grades were barely passing.
Other:
Magical Skills- Anything special? If applicable
Patronus- Welly can only rarely conjure a corporeal patronus, but when he does, it takes the form of a cat.
Wand- Yew, 9 inches, rather inflexible. Phoenix feather core.
Goals/Aspirations- Optional
Other Information-
History-
Born to the remnants of an old Muggle family, Maxwell was the only surviving child of his mother, an older woman who soon took to her bed as an ‘invalid,’ and his father, a man who had a name but nothing more to mark the former glory of his house. He had one older sister, who died in early childhood.
His mother was of an old family, who still had reach and clout. They were angry and ashamed that she had married so below her station, a penniless man of a tattered old name, practically no one at all. The terror of Maxwell’s childhood was his maternal grandmother, who came to live with them after his mother retired to live as an invalid. He has many memories of the old, wrinkled woman berating him to stand straight, to behave properly, to use his manners. He was an Ellwood of Eastmarch, and if he had no right to a title it was his own mother’s fault for marrying below her station.
At first a happy household, despite its malfunctions, things started to truly go sour when his older sister drowned at the age of eight. Little Victoria had been the light of his strict Grandmother's life, the one thing she didn't see as a screw-up in her daughter's life. The family lived on Elizabeth's money, a small stipend that was the only acknowledgment she received. It wouldn't do for an Ellwood of the Eastmarch to be poverty-stricken, even if she were struck from the will and shunned. Only her widow mother even acknowledged her existence.
It was a strange relationship all around. Caitlin Ellwood resented her daughter and her lowborn husband, but she was Elizabeth’s strongest supporter. She constantly badgered both Maxwell and Elizabeth’s husband, managing the household in Elizabeth’s infirmity,
Maxwell was trained to believe he was of a superior breed, that life would be easy for him. He deserved the best in life, his mother’s poor darling son. His father was around less and less as he grew older, until he disappeared completely, abandoning his family when Maxwell was nine.
Maxwell adopted a kitten when he was eight, a young, scruffy ball of fur he found in the alleyway. Shortly after his mother discovered fleas hopping in her child’s hair, the kitten disappeared, and Maxwell was sent to his room after a thorough bathing and scolding.
When his father returned from London, he brought a young cat, striped black and grey and of better breeding. In his anger at the loss of his kitten and this attempt to replace it with a ‘better’ version, Maxwell’s magic manifested for the first time. A strong force blew his father into the wall, breaking ribs and killing the kitten. Maxwell ran to his room in tears.
He eventually learned to control this strange power of his, and he discovered something else as well—the power to hurt. He couldn’t hit back at some things, but he could take out his frustration and fury on others.
He was sent to Hogwarts when he was eleven, his grandmother choosing to ignore the unnaturalness of the school and instead admonishing him one last time that he was an Ellwood of the Eastmarch, that he deserved recognition, and that he was expected to do his best in school.
Maxwell’s school years were mediocre. After being assigned to Gryffindor, he spent a good deal of his time trying to ingratiate himself with other students. He made few friends, but he was convinced of his own superiority. If they did not wish to be his friend, they would know better when he was recognized for who he was.
He continued his experiments, they providing a measure of control for his life. As he settled into school they decreased in frequency, until eventually he left them behind, only a poor memory. He adopted a cat in his third year, the young kitten becoming his one true friend.
His grandmother died when he was in his fifth year of school, he didn’t bother to return for the old harridan’s funeral. Now it was only his mother and himself, alone in the empty house but for a few servants. He spent his summers there, sometimes never seeing his mother for weeks on end.
After his graduation he moved into a small flat in London, searching for a job. Writing had always been one of his outlets, and pain and death still drew him, so when a job opened at the Prophet, he was quick to take the job of crime reporter. He settled into a rut, of arrogance and mediocrity. He became a small man, simply living day to day, year after year. With no one to prod him, he lived but did not live up to his own expectations, the expectations of his family. He lived alone, with just his cats for company.
He served the Masked lady for a time, fading back into the shadows after her defeat. Years went by, until his mother’s death. He didn’t attend the funeral of his parent, instead he inspected his life. He wasn’t getting the praise he deserved. Others mocked him, making little of his considerable abilities.
Eventually his experiments began again. Eventually, he learned a man is much more interesting than an animal. Unable to let his work remain unrecognized, he wrote the story of his crimes.
His stories are full of outrage, raging against the monster who leaves men, women and children mutilated and dead in the streets. Who is the killer, they ask. Ministry Law Enforcement is urged to take the man off the streets. His stories sell Prophets by the bundle, and his byline is a household name.
Last year he took a Hogwarts student by chance, an accident. A lucky accident. He had fun with the youngest of his victims yet. Since he dumped the body in early February, he has taken no new victims. He waits, letting time pass as the wizarding world whispers in fear of him. He is respected, as the reporter who wants the monster off the streets. He is feared, as the monster in the dark. His full due is coming.
