Name: Asher Ezekiel Stronge

Age: 15

Bloodline: half–veela

Physical Appearance:
Asher never asked to be half-veela, but that is what he got. His silver-blonde hair, high cheekbones and slender nose were constant reminders of his lineage. He hated them. He hated that many people could only see past his alluring appearance. There was more to him, but the way he saw it was that no one would be able to see who he truly was, as long as he carried some of his mother’s traits. The features he had inherited from his father, on the other hand, he was much fonder of. To Asher, his father’s strong jaw and chin, for instance, show inner strength. And the deep green eyes and sat beneath heavy brows spoke of hidden intelligence. These were traits anyone would be proud of, Asher thought.

Apart from his facial features, Asher has a slim, long torso without much meat of any kind sticking to it. The torso, matched with his somewhat disproportionately short legs (when compared closely with his torso) makes Asher a solid 5 feet, 11 inches tall. Weighing in at 150 pounds, Mr. Stronge is slim indeed. While he sometimes feels scrawny next to some of the more muscular and athletic guys in the school, Asher seldom worries about his body image.

Another trait he inherited from his father was broad shoulders, a feature that worked miracles for Asher’s slim build. With the broad shoulders, he didn’t look quite as skinny as he would have otherwise. The shoulders matched with his thin waist gave him the v-shaped torso of a swimmer, although Asher never learned how.

Due to his veela heritage, Asher has a couple pigments-less birth marks. One is on his right buttocks, while the other resides on his left knee. He often wears polo’s or form-fitting v-neck t-shirts when he is not in his school robes. He usually wears colorful vans on his size ten feet, and adorns no rings or bracelets on his somewhat boney hands and wrists. His trousers are usually a faded jean with no belt, so he is constantly pulling them up so that his boxers don’t show.

Personality:
If Asher were to describe his personality, he would say he was gentle, intelligent, and easily pleased. However, the rest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry didn’t see him that way. In fact, most of the school disliked him. Sure, they would all agree he was good-looking! He was half-veela for Merlin’s sake! But the students of Hogwarts would say that his looks were basically the only thing he had going for him.

To his classmates and housemates, Asher was stuck-up, inapproachable, and rude. They had all liked him a great deal when he was a first year, but that soon changed when he began closing himself off to everyone, trusting no one, and not giving anyone that time of day. The worst part of it all was he didn’t even know he was doing it.

You see, all Asher knew was that he was lonely. He had no friends. He blamed it on his ‘curse’ as he liked to call it. From his point of view, the students of Hogwarts only initially liked him because he was half-veela. They didn’t want to get to know Asher Stronge and his gentle nature. They didn’t care that he was a painter, or a poet. Heck, they didn’t even appreciate his singing talents when he had solo parts in the Hogwarts Choir on just their merit. All they saw was a veela who could paint, write, and sing. At least, that is how Asher saw it.

In actuality, many had tried to complement him on his areas and strength. They wanted to get to know the kid beneath the veela. They saw that he was terrible at quidditch, couldn’t swim, and didn’t really know how to sound normal in a conversation. They wanted to talk with him about his strengths so that he would feel comfortable in conversation. They wanted to be Asher’s friend, not the veela’s friend. But Asher couldn’t see it. He was convinced that everyone’s intentions were bad -- A general distrust of people that he had learned from his father.

So, because of Asher’s distrust, he didn’t allow people to know him. All his peers saw was a snob, and gave up wanting to know him. It no longer mattered that he excelled at Charms and Transfiguration, but was no good at wandless classes like Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, with the exception of Potions. No one wanted to know anyone that. All they saw was a snob, and all Asher felt was loneliness and a growing disposition of distrust.

Character Background:
Asher Stronge was born under unusual circumstances.
***
Benjamin Stronge, 21, was on holiday in Paris. He had decided to travel in hopes to breathe new life into his pointless-cubicle bound existence. So, he boarded a plane from JFK International Airport and landed some hours later in the city of Romance.
***
About the same time, Alana Devox, 18, was sick and tired of the family business. ‘Business,’ though, wasn’t that best way to put it. The Devox ladies were, for all intents and purposes, thieves. They were lucky to be of the Veela race, a magical bloodline that has the power to entrance unguarded humans by simply being around them. However, Alana didn’t count herself lucky to be Veela. She detested the fact that her mother made her seduce the male (and some female) tourists of Paris. She hated it even more that the seducing was just foreplay for the real crime. Alana was required to rob these innocent tourists of everything they had, once their defenses were down. It was the perfect set-up: Muggle tourists finding the love of their lives in the city of romance, only to be shucked of everything they had.

Alana, unable to stomach her mother’s evil designs, struck out on her own, attempting to start a new life for herself. What she didn’t expect, was to fall in love.
***
Benjamin Stronge walked out of the airport with his passport in hand. It was dark outside, but the city lights seemed welcoming enough. After getting a taxi, he found himself sipping coffee in a small café, not far from the hotel he’d be staying at. He could just see the tip of the Eiffel Tower, as it loomed over the city streets. It was then that Benjamin heard was sounded like a female, crying. It was muffled, and sounded lie it was coming from one of the café’s back corners. One survey of the room told him he was correct. A woman with silver hair was sobbing with her head in her arms. At first, Benjamin thought that he should leave her be, but when the sobbing didn’t end, he slowly rose to his feet to investigate.
***
Alana was nudged gently from her tears. Looking up, she saw the kind smile of a tall, handsome man, American by the looks of him. It could have been that she was distressed about her situation with her family, or the fact that a man for the first time in her life approached her with concern, but the reason doesn’t matter. Alana Devox instantly melted under the gaze of the tall American. She was in love.
***
Benjamin couldn’t put his finger on it, but as soon as he touched the silver-haired girl, and she looked up at him, he was entranced by her beauty. All he wanted was to make she was going to be alright. He wanted to provide for her, make love with her. After a conversation that felt like hours, he invited her back to his hotel. She seemed more willing that he did.
***
The morning after they had made love, the door burst open to the little hotel room, and a band of women, all with silver hair, strode in. They ignored Benjamin’s cries of outrage as they yanked his lover from the sheets. She was still naked, but they didn’t care. She protested, but the oldest of the women slapped her across the face, yelling at her in French. After Alana was drug from the room, Benjamin never saw her again.
***
A baby was borne to Alana nine months later, and with the help of a friend, she was able to transport the little guy to safety in America. She knew that her son would never have a normal life if he stayed on the same continent as his grandmother. Alana didn’t want him to go through the same pain that she did, that she was still going through.
***
Benjamin sat in his studio apartment with his baby in one arm, and a note from Alana Devox in the other. The note explained young Asher’s magical abilities, and what might happen to the faint of heart if they came into contact with him. From the note, Benjamin learned of the magical world, and of Veelas.
***
When Asher was five years old, his father told him that he was special, that for his own safety, he would be homeschooled. At first, Asher liked that he was different, but as he grew he found his difference to be a curse. Sure, because he was only half-veela, people didn’t go hog mad about him, but they still liked him a great deal. Some girls even swore they were in love with him. His father of course was extremely over-protective and didn’t allow Asher to do much of anything with others of his age. Asher would often complain about this, getting extremely angry. Once, he even attempted to run away, but only got as far as the corner market.
***
At age eleven he received his long-expected letter from Hogwarts. For his dad, it was confirmation at last that the magical world was real. For Asher, it was a call of duty. The letter made him feel like more than a socially awkward, home-schooled resident of the lower west side of Manhattan. He saw hope in the letter. Unfortunately, this was also a time when Benjamin felt it was needed to finally tell Asher the circumstances of his birth. To give him a warming, that people might try to use his gifts against him.

“But, she isn’t a criminal now, is she?” Asher asked his father in regard to his mother.

“I don’t know son, I haven’t talked to her since the night we met. We can only hope that she has found a way out of her mother’s grasp.”
***
Asher arrived at Hogwarts, and was instantly liked by many, despite his social awkwardness. He hated that people liked him just because of his magical blood. He was starving for a friend that liked him for just him. Unfortunately this worked both ways. Because of his veela blood, he never trusted that someone liked him for who he was and not because he was veela. Consequently, this meant that he didn’t make any friends, and came off as snotty to many. Most knew he was half veela and were fine with it. Many wanted to get to know him past his bloodline, but he couldn’t see it. So, he pushed everyone away. He was quickly known as the good-looking kid whose head was stuck so far up his own butt that all he smelled was shit. This however, was not Asher. He was gentle by nature, but didn’t know how to show his true qualities because his father had never given him the chance to practice being in social settings. Loneliness stalked Asher Stronge for his first four years at Hogwarts. He was determined to change that in his fifth. He just didn’t know how.

Other: A cat named Merdoc

Special Request (available at Intermediate**) Invisibility Cloak

Desired House: Anything but Hufflepuff

Roleplay Sample:
I know this is from Byron, but I just wanted to get this done. I’ve been working on it for three hours.

The springy grass compressed under his feet as Byron walked through the grounds and toward the Quidditch Pitch. As he rounded a bend with shrubbery to his right and a few grassy hills to his left, a large stadium came into view. Along with the sight, came some jovial shouts and calls; all of course signaling that students were practicing hard for their favorite game.

As he walked, Byron considered this concept. He couldn’t quite figure out why Quidditch was so popular. Sure, it was fun, and he had enjoyed playing it the few times that Madam Hooch had taught them the game during flying class, but that did make Byron want to play it during every second of the day! Yet here he was, walking down to the Quidditch Pitch because he, Byron Biswensky of all people, had signed up for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team!

The fourth year was soon close enough to see the north opening of the stadium. It was about 20 feet tall, and nearly that much wide. The Hufflepuff new that this entrance opened directly onto the part of the field that wasn’t too far from the school broom cupboard. He would have smiled at the prospect of nearing the pitch, but something in his stomach held back the happy emotion.

It felt like something was fluttering in the bowels of his body, ready to eat him alive before he would be able to play at all. Byron Biswensky had a case of the nerves. I am a runner. I stay on the ground, he told himself. I’ll be the laughing stock of the entire school! I knew when I put my name of the tryout list that I would be regretting my actions! Knowing me I must have forgotten that I have little to no experience on a broom whatsoever! The only stuff I know is what Madam Hooch taught me in my first year! Oh this is going to be terrible.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the broom cupboard. He had been so amerced in his own thoughts that he had turned on him auto pilot switch; letting it take him where he needed to go. Without wasting anymore time thinking, Byron moved past the butterflies in his stomach and reached out his hand to open the broom cupboard. Without much difficulty, the Hufflepuff pulled open the white wooden door and began riffling through the brooms.

He quickly by-passed the ones with ample broken twig-ends, looking for a broom that might actually help his sure-to-be lame Quidditch performance. It wasn’t long before the boy, full of shock, pulled out a Cleansweep 267. It wasn’t a great broom, but it would be better than an ancient Nimbus 300!

Not believing that he was about to join into the pre-tryout practices of serious Quidditch players, the Hufflepuff threw his legs over the broom stick and was about to say: “up,” when some sudden activity above him gave him pause. His dull blue eyes saw it as a Ravenclaw student about his age flopped off of his broom, unconscious.

Byron did not stop to think. Letting go of his broom, he let it drop lifeless to the ground. It wasn’t a second longer before he had his hippogriff-feathered wand at the ready. Before the though had even entered his, mind, the fourth year was already verbalizing an incantation. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Byron’s aim had been spot on. The light blue sparks shot out the end of his wand, and caught the falling boy ten feet before he hit the ground. However, Byron Biswensky was only a fourth year, and his levitation charm certainly wasn’t strong enough to catch and hold a falling teenager! So, one second, Byron's spell held the Ravenclaw and the next … the boy hit the ground with a plop.

Congratulations! You have been sorted into Ravenclaw. Welcome to Wizarding Realm!

In light of the fact that you are new, here are a few bits of information that will help you on your journey to greatness. :)

Introduction Topic: One of the greatest ways to get to know other members (aside from RPing of course) is to make an intro topic. You can do that here. Post so that you may be properly welcomed!

The Ranking System: In an effort to help you reach your greatest writing potential, WR has instituted ranks. You start out as a beginner. Once you create three topics and put your application up for review, you will most likely be bumped up to novice. Once you reach that level, more forums in Hogwarts open up to you. Such as... the plotting pages and the journals. After that, you can pursue higher ranks; They are Intermediate, Advanced, and Elite. More detailed information and applications can be found here.

The Clash: Fast forward several years into the future, after your character has graduated from Hogwarts and had a little time to live. Two groups, The Guardians and Vesithe, are at war with each other. Another group called the Vigilante are neutral and work to stop the fighting. This is an ongoing plot that is seperate from the rest of the WR Roleplaying. You must have 50 posts to join, but that's not that hard! :P

Other Information: The signature limit is currently 500x250. Annnd colors are not to be used in your roleplaying posts. We have a skin changer and several different color skins. What might look good on one skin could be unreadable on another. Oh oh, and if you are already a member of WR, and have not gotten permission for having this character from Sundari Harmony, you better do so quick or feel her wrath. xD

Thanks so much for joining and we all hope to see you stay!