(no subject)

[grandhighwizard]

Player Information
Name: Terry
Timezone: PST
Personal Journal: inkblotted
Players Contact/AIM/MSN/YAHOO: None.
Email Address: inkblotted23@gmail.com
Former/Other Characters in the RP: Gamzee Makara
How did you hear about us?: Cause I play here!

Character Information
Name: Rhys Rhydderch
Canon Origin/Series: Homestuck
Teaching Position and why it suits them: Potions – he ran an apothecary when he was a younger man, and has continued with private potions research since then, in his spare time.
Suitability: While Rhys has pretty significant Dark leanings (and is frankly mentally unstable), he hides it well. No one has ever connected him to the Dark Arts, and his powerful position in the Ministry without affiliation to any of the Death Eaters speak to what some would consider his incorruptibility. On top of that, he has been outspoken, during his career, about the equality of all witches and wizards, regardless of bloodline.
Gender: Male
Age: 62
Out of school living location: Cardiff, Wales, with another home in Snowdonia.
Blood status: Pureblood

Personality: Multiple points of this section will refer to his AU history. It would probably be easier to read that first, then read this section.

Rhys is essentially a loose canon that has managed to hide his violent tendencies behind a cheerful mask of respectability. He’s always been a little strange, with an artistic side that couldn’t be suppressed, and a love for the dark and morbid. But after a psychotic break in his early twenties, he’s become obsessed with the Dark Arts, and what he calls the ‘Dark Carnival’ or the ‘Dark Path’ – series of trials that he believes all people must go through to become their best selves. But while he thinks all people must walk this path, he knows most people will never make it, and that’s just fine with him. Worth isn’t placed on bloodline or magical power, but strength of will, and ability to master one’s own fear. As such, he feels it’s his calling to help people learn how to do that – by inflicting fear and pain on them and seeing if they break. He’s done this in various ways over his life, both by private, illicit experiments on people, and through his work at the Ministry, especially during his time on the Wizengamot, and through his connections at Azkaban. He doesn’t talk openly about his strange beliefs (and occasional hallucination), but they drive a lot of what he does, and he will talk in more general terms about fear, and trials through life.

Another strong aspect of Rhys’s personality is his capricious nature. He often decides whether he likes or approves of something based on whether he thinks it’s funny, and he has a similar attitude towards other people. While he’s strangely likable, and people tend to be drawn to him, it’s difficult to predict whether he’ll consider someone worth his attention or not. Or what he thinks is funny, for that matter. He has a weird and morbid sense of humor, but he’s just as likely to find an account of a botched hanging as funny as a Three Stooges style prat fall. Because of this nature, he has had very few long term relationships, either with friends or lovers, and he grows bored of people easily. The people who do interest him tend to be the people he doesn’t understand, or people that he thinks have strong wills, who have conquered adversity. But anyone close to him usually gets put off by his odd ways after a time, and so even the people he’s wanted to keep as friends generally end up distancing themselves from him after a while. The only person he’s managed to maintain a relationship with over the years has been his younger sister, Rhian. She’s a bit odd herself, but even she is wary of him, and has never told him, for example, that she had a child fifteen years ago that she raised on her own for five years, until returning him to his father.

Were it not for his psychotic break, Rhys might have become a professional artist. His paintings are striking, if often frightening, and he’s maintained his love for art throughout the years. He still paints when he has the chance, and has a large collection of masks from all over the world. Art and artistic expression captures his attention, including music and theater, and he loves to see live performances, as well as go to art galleries. Color is extremely important to him, and some of his hallucinations take the form of abstract colors smeared everywhere.

Despite all these oddities, Rhys is an intelligent and charming man. He’s got powerful persuasive abilities, and is the kind of guy that people often want at parties for the outrageous and funny things he’s says that liven things up. The friendships he does have tend to be brief and intense, and he leaves an impression wherever he goes – he’s the kind of person often referred to as a ‘character’. He can make reasoned arguments, even for his more extreme points of view, and controls his more unstable side fairly well, at least in public. However, if he doesn’t have sufficient time to himself to vent or paint, the cracks start to show a little, and he’ll start acting stranger and stranger. Over the years, he’s becoming very good at ensuring he has that time, and he’s never lived with another witch or wizard, except for his sister.

Canon Background: From the MSPaint Adventures Wiki: “The ancestor of Gamzee Makara and a member of the subjugglators, presumably the leader. After Dualscar's kismesissitude for Mindfang failed, he offered her location to the High Blood. Mindfang writes in her journal that this plan either will or already has failed spectacularly due to the subjugglator's sanguinary nature, resulting in Dualscar's death. He decorated his walls with the blood of his victims. The gory rainbow includes blood of all castes (excluding tyrian purple, Karkat's candy red, and his own), which surely pleases him.” While not terribly much is known about this character in canon, there are some hints that can be gleamed due to his caste and position.

The Grand Highblood (GHB) is an indigoblooded troll, and therefore a member of the highest caste of land-dwelling trolls, a kind of royalty. It is implied that many, if not all, members of this caste have the ability to manipulate the fears, both conscious and subconscious, of other trolls, and thus gain control over them. They can do this with large numbers of other trolls at once, by implanting what they call ‘chucklevoodoos’, a sort of subconscious fear time bomb that can direct the thoughts and actions of other trolls without them even knowing it. The GHB is also the member of what is considered a fairly obscure cult among trolls, at least in Gamzee’s time, or what also might be a profession in the GHB’s time (it’s never made explicitly clear), the Subjuggulators. Subjuggulators are a kind of judge, jury, and executioner (sometimes) in troll society – they sit in judgment on certain cases, and then kill the offenders. However, they apparently have free reign to kill almost anyone in troll society, including those of a higher blood caste than themselves, as the GHB kills Dualscar, a sea dwelling troll who is technically of a higher rank/caste. Subjuggulators also have a clown theme – the GHB himself wore face paint in the shape of a skull – and often judge things based on how funny they are, or by a capricious set of whims that are never quite defined.

Background (AU!Canon; HP): Rhys Rhydderch was born into a small, pureblooded family in southern Wales, near Newport. He is the eldest of two children – his sister Rhian is approximately ten years younger than him, and therefore he didn’t know her very well when he was growing up, as she was still a baby when he left for school. Rhys himself was a fairly quiet child – he was raised by a conservative family with strict rules and discipline, and when he showed any interest in the Muggle world, he was beaten. He was also beaten for daydreaming, which he did quite a lot of. Rhys spent a lot of time in his own head, and had a hard time connecting with other people at all. His distinct lack of empathy often made other children uncomfortable around him, and he was more concerned with fantastical worlds he built in his head than the real one, much to the consternation of his practical, stolid parents. They didn’t mind his loner nature, but the stories he would tell about the things he imagined sometimes frightened his mother, and she forbade him from talking about them.

No one was really surprised when he was sorted into Ravenclaw once he started Hogwarts. It was among the wizards and witches there that Rhys finally started to make some acquaintances, if not real friends. His social skills were still somewhat lacking, and his odd sense of humor made itself known – he thought nothing was funnier that mishaps in class, accidents with potions, collisions during quidditch matches. His taste for the macabre extended to the art he started to do, as well. While he had been forbidden from drawing at home, no one stopped him at school, and he filled books with bizarre little sketches and later paintings. (Examples of how I picture his art are here, here, and here.) Essentially, Rhys was the creepy kid who always sat at the back of the class, knew far too much about the decomposition rates of the human body, and had a thing for animals bones – he liked to make pendants out of bird and rat skulls. But though none of these were traits that made him popular, there were other kids who actually would hang out with him, mostly kids interested in the Dark Arts, often with poor social skills themselves. Rhys was a goth, before goths existed.

Once he’d graduated from Hogwarts, he immediately moved to the city and away from his family, whom he’d become more and more estranged from the longer he was at school and was able to indulge in his artistic side. He got a job apprenticing under an apothecary, and while he actually had a knack for potions, he mostly saw this as a way to make the rent, and get on the cheap the ingredients for the things he wanted to make at home. It was the height of the sixties and drug culture in Cardiff was flourishing, as well as the music and art scene. Finally, Rhys found a place where he fit in – his art style, while morbid, still fit the psychedelic sensibilities of the crowd he ran with, and he actually got a few ‘shows’, mainly hanging space on the walls of pubs he frequented. Still, it was something, and he sold a painting here and there while he indulged in everything the city had to offer. Including illicit potions and substances.

It was those potions that led to his first psychotic break. Something in his mind snapped in the midst of a week-long bender, and he started ranting about seeing the dark path through the stars, and how there would be trials that would come for them all, where they had to walk the knife edge of fear ... after that break, he spent over a year in St. Mungos. When he was well enough, he was released into the care of his parents. He stayed on their farm for another two years, but he was never quite the same – there was a dark edge to Rhys now, a dangerous unhingedness that always seemed to be just below the surface. His art became increasingly dark and strangely themed, and his parents forbade him from painting in the house. Instead he went out to the goat paddocks and would work out there, sometimes accompanied by his little sister. He’d ramble at her for hours about his new philosophy of life, about how all must be judged by what he called the Dark Messiah. Needless to say, it warped her to some extent, too.

He kept conflicting with his family, though, over his lifestyle choices, art, and increasing interest in the Dark Arts, and eventually he left again. He returned to Cardiff and his old job, and though he stayed away from the drugs, he found it easy to immerse himself in the scene once more. After a few years, he was practically running the shop he had first apprenticed in, but it was starting to bore him. It was then he found that a few old friends had gotten involved in wizarding politics and were working for the Ministry. It was all the excuse he needed – he owled them immediately, and eventually got a job in the Improper Use of Magic Department. It was a perfect place for him to hide and continue his Dark studies, since he could cover his own tracks by misusing the department’s resources. It also allowed him to interrogate witches and wizards who might be involved in riskier uses of magic, and to learn new techniques. But it still wasn’t enough.

Rhys began making connections with several aurors he found to be more easily swayed by his peculiar charisma, and through them, he gained access to more illicit Dark magic and the practitioners who wielded it. He likewise made some connections with the staff of Azkaban – where he couldn’t charm someone into doing what he wanted, he used blackmail of those in the Ministry he’d known in the ‘old days’ of drugging and partying. But once the right connections were made, he had no problem gathering intelligence on other, cleaner Ministry members. Over the years, Rhys amassed a great deal of influence and power, all while engaging in his own hidden studies of Dark magic and fear. He kept a private house Snowdonia for all his experiments and dark paraphernalia, and the more he learned how to spell fear in others, the more he was able to grain a great and great foothold in the Ministry. It was no surprise to anyone that he was appointed to the Wizengamot at the relatively tender age of 41.

On several occasions Rhys was approached by Death Eaters, trying to win him to their cause, but he found their beliefs puerile and old fashioned. He might be a pureblood, but he had no particular attachment to pureblood supremacy – all wizards and witches were the same to him. They all bled the same delightful red. In fact, once he was part of the Wizengamot, he was known for his particularly harsh sentences against Dark wizards, and his call to reintroduce the death penalty for the Dark Arts. He got a fearsome and brutal reputation, for good reason, though his sentencing seemed sometime capricious – Rhys was growing more unstable as he got older, and no longer had to hide so much of who he was.

During the second wizarding war, Rhys remained with the Ministry – he thrived in the paranoid environment. But once things became calm again, and the Ministry started to restructure, he decided it was time for a change. A career change in his sixties was not so unusual for a wizard, since he had decades and decades left to live, but he wasn’t sure what would further his studies. That is, until he heard that the Potions matser at Hogwarts was leaving for a permanent position at St. Mungos. Something about it seemed serendipitous to him, like Fate was pointing his way, and he quite his job at the Ministry, much to the shock of all his colleagues, and wrote to the Headmaster right away. With his connections and apparently spotless record, he was an excellent candidate for the position. He explained that the last war had disenchanted him with politics, and he realized that the future lay in educating the children, who would shape the world of tomorrow.

RP Samples:
Journal Sample:
For the 5th years, due Friday:
At least 20 inches on one of the following.
- Describe the historical uses of Amortentia in regards to politics in the 14th and 15th centuries. Chose one particular incident to focus on. What might have been different in European history had this philter never been invented? What has the so-called selfless emotion of love destroyed? Include a discussion on the difference between “real” love and induced affection.
- The Confusing Concoction is an often over-looked potion, with many potential uses. Detail one unorthodox usage of this draught, bonus points for an original application. It is said that the mind should always be clear, but what might be the benefits of scrambled thoughts and a view of reality turned on its head? Discuss.
- The Mirthful Elixir is seldom used in modern Potions, but enjoyed a brief vogue in the 17th century. Describe the historical rise and fall of this potion, and how it influenced culture. How might induced laughter and humor be used today to benefit humanity? To harm it?

Third Person Sample:
Rhys watched the goats chewing at the sparse and weedy grass in the back yard of some wizarding family’s Hogsmeade property. He wasn’t sure why they were bothering to keep goats here in the village – for the milk, he supposed – and he didn’t really care. There was just something soothing about their presence; he’d always felt like he fit in better with the goats on his parents’ farm than with his own family. Short-sighted, stiff necked fools, both of them. But he wasn’t thinking about that now. No, he was thinking about the goats.

He leaned on the fence casually, tapping his fingers against the worn wood, giving the one with the yellow eyes a good stare. He was the one that knew what was going on, after all. There was almost always one, and Rhys had been told how to read the signs long ago, the special marks of an enlightened animal.

“Look,” he told the beast, “I’ve been doing all I can, but the place is stifling. Do you know we’re not even allowed to come and go as we please?”

You have to make it work. They can’t actually stop you, can they? the goat told him sternly.

“They could, but they won’t. But I’d still risk my position, and I can’t do that. They want me to be here. It’s where the Path leads,” Rhys argued.

Make it work, the goat repeated stubbornly. Goats were always so goddamn stubborn. Then it grinned at him, its strange eyes sly. Unless you want to start crucifying students. You could make some wonderful art that way.

Just the thought made Rhys chuckle, though he knew that sort of thing wasn’t possible. “Punishment for being judge un-fucking-mirthful?” he suggested, then heard the voice over his shoulder.

“Professor … ?” One of the students. He turned to behold a twelve or thirteen year old girl in Hufflepuff colors who was giving him the most uncertain look at catching her teacher talking to goats.

He just grinned lazily at her. “Hutchins, isn’t it?”

“Um, yes. Are you- ?”

“All right? Indeed I am. Having the most wonderful conversation with this goat, you see,” he told her breezily. “The best thing about chatting with goats is they always laugh at your jokes.”

She covered her mouth, giggling, and he smiled warmly at her. He’d tricked the entire Wizengamot into thinking he was a sane and reasonable wizard for twenty years. Children were nothing. “Walk me back to the Three Broomsticks, my love? I want to discuss last week's assignment with you … “