Post by Braxton Ward on Dec 14, 2006 18:39:33 GMT -5
Congrats... You have been accepted!
Gabrielle Blagden
Name: Morgan
Other characters on the board: None.
Are you over 13?: By leaps and bounds.
Name: Braxton Ward
Age: 16
Year in Salem: Junior
Gender:Male
Birthday/Sign: March 15
Blood Type/Purity: Half blood
Appearance: It’s rumored that Braxton Ward had Skele-Gro mixed in with his formula when he was a toddler, or maybe he broke into the medicine cabinet when he was ten. Either way, at sixteen years old Braxton Ward is a gangly six-foot, four inches tall, and about two hundred pounds. It’s not so much an athletic build as it is a sports build. His face is inoffensive: A broad forehead which flattens around bridge of his nose, a straight nose, and a solid chin. The sides fall away a bit, as though the head were windswept.
Personality: There’s no way around it: Braxton is a jock. He’s insensitive and comes off as a thick-head. He relates better with boys than girls. He looks at friends like they’re team mates, looks at strangers like they’re rivals, and thinks of peers as fans. Don’t get him wrong: he wants to have friends, wants to get along with people, and wants to be treated nicely. The problem is, those things don’t involve throwing a leather ball through a hoop.
They say that crisis brings out the best in a Pisces, and that they’re best doing two things at once. When the pressure isn’t on Braxton Ward looks like an awkward, under-achieving teenager. However, when there are bludgers flying at his head Ward looks cool and collected.
History: Part 1
To talk about Braxton Ward you have to start with his dad, Ben. Ben was technically a wizard, and he went to Salem. His marks were terrible, and he squeaked by at the bottom of his class; magic and Ben Ward simply did not get along. After graduation, Ben found that he got along just fine with Harvard Law School. Nowadays Ben Ward is an attorney that works for professional athletes, actors, singers, and all sorts of grownups that need people to take care of them. Any given week he’s defending a client that made racial slurs to a police offer, or punched a photographer, or fired off a gun at a night club. This has had an impact on how his son has been raised, because very often he’s treated his son like a client instead of a kid who needs guidance.
Part 2
It all starts at elementary school for Braxton. In the very first grade there was a bully, Marvin. Marvin was slightly bigger than most of the other kids and had a habit of taking things that belonged to you: pencils, cartons of milk, spots in line, and so on; the kind of bully that thrived on people not fighting back. One day on the playground Braxton had this new baseball cap on, and Marvin took it from him. Braxton had once seen one of his dads’s clients punch a person in the face, and without thinking he cracked the bully right between the eyes.
Braxton went before the principle, and his dad had to come from work. Like most kids at their first trip to the office he was terrified, even thought he was going to be kicked out of school. His dad pulled him aside before they saw the principle and asked what happened. Braxton told him, and he said “Ok. I can work with. If he asks you anything, just say you’re sorry and won’t do it again. The crying is a nice touch, keep it up.” When they went before the school principle Braxton’s dad exploded, red in the face and shouting about his son was being harassed on the playground and being terrified with calls to the office and that he would go to the school board and that he might just punch the principle right in the face for such a stupid problem. When it was all said and done he’d worked the principle down from a two day suspension to an apology and handshake with the bully and a promise that it wouldn’t happen again.
The experience left Braxton with the impression that it was OK to stick up for himself, that authority was not unquestionable, that his dad was his hero, and that his dad liked for him to be a tough guy.
Braxton’s dad always watched a lot of sports. Nowadays he realizes that he was watching to see if one of his clients attacks a fan, but when he was just eight, he figured his dad liked sports. For a while, the seasons were not summer fall winter and spring, but baseball football basketball and soccer. Braxton had a library of those videos that professional athletes make about how to play like a pro. He kept a baseball mitt tied around a softball in the back of their freezer. He slept with a basketball. He had six different types of cleats. He learned to count down backwards from forty, thirty-five, and three seconds in his head to keep up with game clocks. He got into the habit of waking up absurdly early in the morning for double-practices.
His dad put off ‘the big secret’ until Braxton was eleven. When his dad told him, he was not gentle in expressing his thoughts about wizards and magic. Braxton ate up what his dad had to say about wizards being uptight, self-important nitwits. His dad told him that while he had to go to this school, he’d be on his way to a “real” college when he graduated. His dad put him in an expensive private coven; the kind where if you were smart, you got smarter, if you were dumb you would be just smart enough to pass the SMARTs.
In six years of wizarding education, Braxton Ward has not excelled. From a talent standpoint he’s superior to his father, (although that isn’t saying much) but he’s never applied himself fully. If magic isn’t good enough for his dad it isn’t good enough for him. The only subject that really gets him interested is-you guessed it-Quidditch. The process of teaching Braxton has become a sort of carrot and stick game, where every term the staff threatens to not let him play, and he picks up his homework a bit.
When the fanatics attacked the school, his first thought was a sense of abject terror, as he realized that anyone with a wand could probably destroy him-before that, he’d never thought about anyone actually attacking someone with a wand. His second thought was to wonder if the attackers had a good lawyer.
Likes: Does it end in “-ball?” He likes people that are smaller than he is. He likes people that don’t talk over his head. Physical activity is a plus. Flattery. Cleverness and daring.
Dislikes: Does it assign homework? He doesn’t like being made to look or feel like an idiot, which is often. People who believe completely in rules and authority.
Special Abilities: Sports. Whatever house he winds up in is almost a shoe-in to get a bunch of points from Quidditch. He’s not bad on a broom, but he’s got a dead aim with a quaffle, can swing a beater’s bat, and can defend at a level all his own. He’s also got a feel for negotiation and litigation from his dad.
Hopes and Dreams: Braxton dreams about things that would get his dad’s approval: fame, money, and success. The one fantasy he has that’s his own is boats: working on them, around them, piloting them.
Wand: Ash and dragon bladder.
Broom: So many people have these Firebolts. Braxton tried out seven makes before he settled on a Cleansweep. It doesn’t have the top speed of a Nimbus 2001 or a Firebolt, but it has a superior quidditch feel, with better stop-and-go, cornering power, stability, and it can make and take hits.
Pet: Naming a bat does not make it a pet.
Writing Sample: Braxton had woken up early, even for him. He’d had the dream where he was at the dentist office and all his batty relatives were there menacing him with old rusty hand drills, saws, hammers and the like. He was supposed to be feeding the fish but as soon as he did they all died and started floating on their side in the tank. Then the secretary ushered him into the office with the screeching drill sound and he woke up.
Up was up, so he dressed, put on his trainers, and started out of the dorm for a run around the grounds. Maybe, he thought, if he finished the run and did his pushups and sit-ups and squats, he would call it a cheat-day and have ham for breakfast. He was thinking about variations of ham when he put his hand on the front door and the sharp voice of a monitor told him to stop.
“Ward! Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?” The monitor had been sitting down an oblique hallway from the entrance, watching, on the smart bet that anyone who snuck out would use door.
Braxton turned, and sighed. It chafed him that he had to explain himself so often to people he thought should know better. He backed up from the door and turned to face the monitor that’d caught him. “I woke up a bit before my alarm went off. Figured I would go out for a run a little earlier than usual. You know I do this just about every day. I’ll go out, run, come back. What’s the problem?”
“Little early? It’s only eleven thirty! Did you even check your alarm clock?” The monitor turned their wand towards the wall and flashed it on a clock face. The big hand was just between the eleven and twelve. Braxton realized that he hadn’t actually checked the time before he came down. His face burned and he turned to go back the way he came, only calling out to the monitor as he departed,
“Night.”
House: Merlin
Room Number: 360
Room Mate: Andrew Parker
Smart Scores:
Alchemy: A
Wand Work: A
Astronomy: A
Magizoology: P
Gabrielle Blagden
Name: Morgan
Other characters on the board: None.
Are you over 13?: By leaps and bounds.
Name: Braxton Ward
Age: 16
Year in Salem: Junior
Gender:Male
Birthday/Sign: March 15
Blood Type/Purity: Half blood
Appearance: It’s rumored that Braxton Ward had Skele-Gro mixed in with his formula when he was a toddler, or maybe he broke into the medicine cabinet when he was ten. Either way, at sixteen years old Braxton Ward is a gangly six-foot, four inches tall, and about two hundred pounds. It’s not so much an athletic build as it is a sports build. His face is inoffensive: A broad forehead which flattens around bridge of his nose, a straight nose, and a solid chin. The sides fall away a bit, as though the head were windswept.
Personality: There’s no way around it: Braxton is a jock. He’s insensitive and comes off as a thick-head. He relates better with boys than girls. He looks at friends like they’re team mates, looks at strangers like they’re rivals, and thinks of peers as fans. Don’t get him wrong: he wants to have friends, wants to get along with people, and wants to be treated nicely. The problem is, those things don’t involve throwing a leather ball through a hoop.
They say that crisis brings out the best in a Pisces, and that they’re best doing two things at once. When the pressure isn’t on Braxton Ward looks like an awkward, under-achieving teenager. However, when there are bludgers flying at his head Ward looks cool and collected.
History: Part 1
To talk about Braxton Ward you have to start with his dad, Ben. Ben was technically a wizard, and he went to Salem. His marks were terrible, and he squeaked by at the bottom of his class; magic and Ben Ward simply did not get along. After graduation, Ben found that he got along just fine with Harvard Law School. Nowadays Ben Ward is an attorney that works for professional athletes, actors, singers, and all sorts of grownups that need people to take care of them. Any given week he’s defending a client that made racial slurs to a police offer, or punched a photographer, or fired off a gun at a night club. This has had an impact on how his son has been raised, because very often he’s treated his son like a client instead of a kid who needs guidance.
Part 2
It all starts at elementary school for Braxton. In the very first grade there was a bully, Marvin. Marvin was slightly bigger than most of the other kids and had a habit of taking things that belonged to you: pencils, cartons of milk, spots in line, and so on; the kind of bully that thrived on people not fighting back. One day on the playground Braxton had this new baseball cap on, and Marvin took it from him. Braxton had once seen one of his dads’s clients punch a person in the face, and without thinking he cracked the bully right between the eyes.
Braxton went before the principle, and his dad had to come from work. Like most kids at their first trip to the office he was terrified, even thought he was going to be kicked out of school. His dad pulled him aside before they saw the principle and asked what happened. Braxton told him, and he said “Ok. I can work with. If he asks you anything, just say you’re sorry and won’t do it again. The crying is a nice touch, keep it up.” When they went before the school principle Braxton’s dad exploded, red in the face and shouting about his son was being harassed on the playground and being terrified with calls to the office and that he would go to the school board and that he might just punch the principle right in the face for such a stupid problem. When it was all said and done he’d worked the principle down from a two day suspension to an apology and handshake with the bully and a promise that it wouldn’t happen again.
The experience left Braxton with the impression that it was OK to stick up for himself, that authority was not unquestionable, that his dad was his hero, and that his dad liked for him to be a tough guy.
Braxton’s dad always watched a lot of sports. Nowadays he realizes that he was watching to see if one of his clients attacks a fan, but when he was just eight, he figured his dad liked sports. For a while, the seasons were not summer fall winter and spring, but baseball football basketball and soccer. Braxton had a library of those videos that professional athletes make about how to play like a pro. He kept a baseball mitt tied around a softball in the back of their freezer. He slept with a basketball. He had six different types of cleats. He learned to count down backwards from forty, thirty-five, and three seconds in his head to keep up with game clocks. He got into the habit of waking up absurdly early in the morning for double-practices.
His dad put off ‘the big secret’ until Braxton was eleven. When his dad told him, he was not gentle in expressing his thoughts about wizards and magic. Braxton ate up what his dad had to say about wizards being uptight, self-important nitwits. His dad told him that while he had to go to this school, he’d be on his way to a “real” college when he graduated. His dad put him in an expensive private coven; the kind where if you were smart, you got smarter, if you were dumb you would be just smart enough to pass the SMARTs.
In six years of wizarding education, Braxton Ward has not excelled. From a talent standpoint he’s superior to his father, (although that isn’t saying much) but he’s never applied himself fully. If magic isn’t good enough for his dad it isn’t good enough for him. The only subject that really gets him interested is-you guessed it-Quidditch. The process of teaching Braxton has become a sort of carrot and stick game, where every term the staff threatens to not let him play, and he picks up his homework a bit.
When the fanatics attacked the school, his first thought was a sense of abject terror, as he realized that anyone with a wand could probably destroy him-before that, he’d never thought about anyone actually attacking someone with a wand. His second thought was to wonder if the attackers had a good lawyer.
Likes: Does it end in “-ball?” He likes people that are smaller than he is. He likes people that don’t talk over his head. Physical activity is a plus. Flattery. Cleverness and daring.
Dislikes: Does it assign homework? He doesn’t like being made to look or feel like an idiot, which is often. People who believe completely in rules and authority.
Special Abilities: Sports. Whatever house he winds up in is almost a shoe-in to get a bunch of points from Quidditch. He’s not bad on a broom, but he’s got a dead aim with a quaffle, can swing a beater’s bat, and can defend at a level all his own. He’s also got a feel for negotiation and litigation from his dad.
Hopes and Dreams: Braxton dreams about things that would get his dad’s approval: fame, money, and success. The one fantasy he has that’s his own is boats: working on them, around them, piloting them.
Wand: Ash and dragon bladder.
Broom: So many people have these Firebolts. Braxton tried out seven makes before he settled on a Cleansweep. It doesn’t have the top speed of a Nimbus 2001 or a Firebolt, but it has a superior quidditch feel, with better stop-and-go, cornering power, stability, and it can make and take hits.
Pet: Naming a bat does not make it a pet.
Writing Sample: Braxton had woken up early, even for him. He’d had the dream where he was at the dentist office and all his batty relatives were there menacing him with old rusty hand drills, saws, hammers and the like. He was supposed to be feeding the fish but as soon as he did they all died and started floating on their side in the tank. Then the secretary ushered him into the office with the screeching drill sound and he woke up.
Up was up, so he dressed, put on his trainers, and started out of the dorm for a run around the grounds. Maybe, he thought, if he finished the run and did his pushups and sit-ups and squats, he would call it a cheat-day and have ham for breakfast. He was thinking about variations of ham when he put his hand on the front door and the sharp voice of a monitor told him to stop.
“Ward! Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?” The monitor had been sitting down an oblique hallway from the entrance, watching, on the smart bet that anyone who snuck out would use door.
Braxton turned, and sighed. It chafed him that he had to explain himself so often to people he thought should know better. He backed up from the door and turned to face the monitor that’d caught him. “I woke up a bit before my alarm went off. Figured I would go out for a run a little earlier than usual. You know I do this just about every day. I’ll go out, run, come back. What’s the problem?”
“Little early? It’s only eleven thirty! Did you even check your alarm clock?” The monitor turned their wand towards the wall and flashed it on a clock face. The big hand was just between the eleven and twelve. Braxton realized that he hadn’t actually checked the time before he came down. His face burned and he turned to go back the way he came, only calling out to the monitor as he departed,
“Night.”
House: Merlin
Room Number: 360
Room Mate: Andrew Parker
Smart Scores:
Alchemy: A
Wand Work: A
Astronomy: A
Magizoology: P