|Rabastan (somethngwicked) wrote,|
@ 2011-06-20 21:23:00
OUT OF CHARACTER
AGE: On file
HOW DID YOU FIND US? I play Lord Voldemort here!
JOURNAL TO BE USED: somethngwicked
PB CHOICE: Raoul Bova
NAME: Rabastan Domenic Lestrange
DATE OF BIRTH: April 12, 1955
BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood
OCCUPATION: Death Eater
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Central London
ALLIANCE: The Dark Lord
ACCOMPLISHMENTS: He made it through.
WAND: 10" Oak, Redcap's hair core
LIKES: Having influence, women, weaponry, music, poetry, writing, reading, rain showers, French wine, cigars, his Lord, his brother, his sister-in-law, astronomy, privacy, his face
DISLIKES: beer, the beach, sunrises, thick fog, weakness, vampires and other half breeds, muggles, muggle borns, blood traitors, the Order
VICES: Non-magical torture. He tries to indulge in it as often as he can.
MIRROR OF ERISED: Himself in a place of power, living in his Master's vision of a perfect world.
Magical: Dark Arts. The Imperius Curse is one the Rabastan is quite proficient with, as well as casting the thing wordlessly, though that's the only spell/curse/hex he's ever managed to perfect non-verbally.
Mental: He normally has a good head on his shoulders, and tends to listen to reason and logic when coming from one he trusts. He follows orders well, and while he seeks power and influence, he has no desire to lead and prefers to work behind the scenes. He is also very driven and passionate, never one to quit until his goal is reached or he is forced to stop.
Magical: Though he always enjoyed potions and seemed to be good at it his first years in the class, it eventually became too difficult for him and many a cauldron met its doom at Rabastan's hands.
Mental: He has a horrible, hot temper, and can be provoked entirely too easily if the right buttons are pushed. He's also very lippy, and finds that his mouth often gets him into more trouble than not.
He is a man of many faces, and you'll see exactly what he wants you to see, nothing more. He's worn his masks for years and has perfected slipping in and out of his roles and does so with amazing grace. Outwardly, Rabastan is the perfect example of a pure blood male; charming, witty, graceful, intelligent -- but beneath the boyish smile and small flash of dimples lies something dark, but the darkness is a thing he has always been able to control.
Rabastan is smart, not exactly 'book-smart' though he does have his moments, but more a man with great common sense that he generally puts to good use, and he enjoys letting people know that he does have a brain in his skull, and that he does in fact use it. But most of the time, he's laid back, not so flashy and very generous with certain things. If he considers you a friend, he would willingly give you the very robes from his back, as long as they aren't any of his favourite designer robes, of course.
He has a cruel streak, and is extremely vicious when he is provoked. Normally he can stamp his anger down and cloak it with a bit of dark humour, but like anyone else, he can only do it for so long before he blows up. It isn't pretty. Unforgiving is another way to describe him. He holds grudges for wrongs against him or his family until he has his vengeance, and he will get it one way or another. His patience is unlimited, and he'll wait until the time is just right and his mark is least expecting it. He is also very controlling, and many of his false outward personality traits make him slightly manipulative as well.
Meticulous! A touch of OCD, Rabastan likes things to be...not orderly exactly, but he likes to keep things in a certain order that looks right to him. That way it's easier for him to determine when his things (which in some instances he has an overabundance of) have been touched/moved/or stolen and keeps track of everything better that way. He never has dirty hands or fingernails, not even after a raid, or bout of torture, he can't -- stand -- it and charming himself clean is the very first thing he'll do after a mission, even before or as he leaves the scene. He is far from perfect. His flaws, if written out would fill a roll of parchment the length of a football field, but he likes to display only the qualities he likes best about himself to give people the impression that he is indeed perfection on two legs.
Rabastan has a tendency to be a bit pompous and vain but that is countered by his (he thinks) fabulous sense of humour and irresistible charm. He's a bit of a smart ass, normally has a smart remark ready for any situation, and he loves pranking. His pranks aren't as funny to some people, but he always gets a kick out of them, and that's what matters. He can be cool and aloof, or warm and friendly, it just all depends on who you are the sort of treatment you'll receive from him.
Prior to several stints in Azkaban, Rabastan was rather easy on the eyes and quite well aware of it, and had a tendency to make other people aware of it as well. Now, however, year upon year without sunlight, vitamins or even proper meals and medical care (not to mention hygiene) have taken their toll on the younger Lestrange. Standing at 6'3, he is of medium to athletic build, no thanks to his 'unfortunate incarceration' which left him gaunt and sickly looking for quite some time. He, vain creature that he is, strove to regain his dark good looks and the washboard abs he had in his youth, and while he has not quite gotten to what he wishes to be, he has come a long way since he was released from prison.
His icy blue eyes have at times been described as cold and aloof, yet eerily mesmerizing, though since his years in Azkaban they take on what has been called a haunted look, with a gaze that seems to pierce right through a person. Dark brown, nearly black hair is now flecked with gray, mostly at his temples, but only visible when he is caught up in something for a period of time and the charm he casts to darken it to his natural colour wears off.
There is a prominent cleft in his chin which he hides with stubble most of the time and a small dimple in his right cheek, but it only shows if he is truly smiling. He likes to wear only the finest clothes that money can buy and has made a solemn vow that stripes will never decorate his body in any form again. He prefers casual dress to formal, and you will only catch him in robes if he is out eating death or when his Lord calls a meeting. His posture is far from perfect, and he stands with a slight slouch.
His right hand is nearly useless due to being repeatedly broken and healed only to be broken again by a guard during Rabastan's first incarceration, but the arm itself still wields a great deal of power. (He's left handed, so it's only slightly inconvenient to him.)
MOTHER: Rhian Lestrange nee Gamp
FATHER: Rene (Remy) Lestrange
SIBLING(S): Rodolphus Lestrange
OTHER RELATIVES OF NOTE: Bellatrix Lestrange, sister-in-law
Childhood: Born on April 12, 1955 Rabastan Domenic was the second son of Remy and Rhian (nee` Gamp) Lestrange. Rabastan grew up as the children of many rich pure bloods did; Spoiled, haughty and arrogant. His parents seemed to favour both he and his older brother Rodolphus equally, and so with them there was no jealousy over Rodolphus being his father's heir, but only a strong admiration for his brother, and the desire to see him succeed.
Remy Lestrange himself was one of the first proud few to wear a mask and follow his old school mate Tom Riddle when he took on the role of Dark Lord, and he hoped that his sons would one day follow in his footsteps, and follow the man he both admired and revered. The family as a whole, despite their amazing public display, were deeply rooted in old, dark magic, and passed on to their children what they knew, also encouraging them to learn what they could on their own. Rabastan took his study of the dark arts very seriously, reveling in and practicing the Art with great enthusiasm all the while longing for the day he could finally use a wand to give some of the more interesting curses he was learning a try. Despite his mother's protests, he used house elves as targets(and amidst his father's encouragement because of course, practicing on useless house elves is a good way to polish up any sort of spell craft). It was only 'play' at first, but that changed as he grew. He was surprised, yet delighted the first time the ordinary piece of wood he'd been using channeled the magic and delivered a very mild stinging hex to whichever poor house elf he'd ordered to play with him that day.
As they saw the boy's interest in magic growing, instead of stamping it down and waiting for him to go to school to learn, a skilled (and discreet)tutor was hired began teaching then ten year old Rabastan the basics of magic as he had learned them, not daring to delve into the darker things he knew while the boy was at such a tender, impressionable age. Instead he taught Rabastan how to control it, how to reign in his emotions so his magic would flow through untarnished by flight of fancy. He practiced breathing with him, first obvious deep breaths before he taught him too how to control every breath he took. He was an apt pupil, more than apt for one so young, and it made his parents proud.
On his twelfth birthday his love of weaponry, muggle and magical, began. His tutor, who had a small collection of his own, gifted Rabastan with his first weapon; a flail. He had to hide the gift from his mother of course, but when he was at home, he spent a great deal of time locked in his rooms wielding the weapon (and earning bruises as well) as he fought off imaginary foes in front of a mirror. From there, his love of muggle weaponry grew and the boy moved into manhood searching for and doing anything to acquire these weapons. (His weapon collection is now quite extensive, and is his absolute pride and joy.)
School Years: Finally the time neared for Rabastan to go off to school, to leave the comfort of his home for most of the year and begin his education with other teachers. Durmstrang was the first choice of schools for young Rabastan, as it had been for Rodolphus as well but in the end, location and his mother won again, and on the first of September, Rabastan boarded the Hogwarts train with dozens of other fresh faced first years, eager to begin his true magical education.
He was sorted into Slytherin at Hogwarts, and was an excellent student; studious, polite to a fault and always willing to lend a hand. Teachers and students alike were dazzled by his indelible charm, which kept him out of trouble and in turn, Rabastan was well liked by both his peers and professors, his charm drawing them in and holding them captive, and none of them sensed the darkness lurking just beneath the boyish smile.
His favorite subjects were Transfiguration, Potions, and Astronomy. He got off on a good start, studying hard and actually worrying about exams and the like, but after a while he deemed the majority of the courses offered at Hogwarts to be nonsensical, trifling things that a child could learn on their own if given access to a book and a wand. He of course kept that opinion to himself, but his distaste for the subjects gave way to his boredom, and when Rabastan became bored with something, that was simply the end of it. He made sure to keep his marks good enough that he wouldn't get an owl home, but even that, at times, was too much effort for him. He was also very athletic, starting his house Quidditch team as a Keeper during his second year, and taking up swimming, fencing and boxing when he was at home for holidays and summers. Somewhere around the middle of his third year, his interest in sports and the little he had left in his schoolwork became almost non-existent, due in part to the discovery of the opposite sex, and one dark haired female in particular. His school career, which had such a bright start, ended with little more than a whisper. He sat his NEWTS, but only managed to pass a few (he doesn't even remember which now) by the proverbial skin of his teeth.
Adulthood: After Hogwarts Rabastan never worked, never did anything save enjoy the 'playboy' lifestyle, leaving anything important up to his father and brother. Life was grand simply being 'the spare' to his brother's heir, no responsibilities and all the time in the world to play with. And money was never something he had to worry about due to the vast Lestrange fortunes, luckily, as he preferred sleeping off last nights adventure to getting up early to do an honest days work.
Having always looked up to Rodolphus (though he would never freely admit that to his brother), Rabastan found himself following in the older Lestrange's footsteps after the man had taken His Mark, and thus began a career like none Rabastan had ever thought to have.
His profile as a death eater was somewhat low, but really, he was just as ruthless as the rest, perhaps even more so. He had a great penchant for torture, discovered first when he went into service to the Dark Lord. To him, the process was an art, and he was Le Artiste Extraordinaire. Rabastan looked forward to being given 'something' to play with in his little 'house of pain' in the Cotswolds where he kept his weapons. Not all of his victims were unlucky enough to find themselves in his cellar, but the ones was allowed to bring there would never forget their experience, had they lived to tell the tale. He would take hours with them, talking to them, showing him the weapon he was going to use, perhaps, to the more silent, a bit of it's history as well and describing in great detail as a means of instilling the fear he craved from them, what he was going to do to them. A quick kill was never truly satisfying for Rabastan, and using his magic in these moments for more than a simple clean-up was unheard of. He liked to look into their eyes, to hear their screams and pleas, and he relished the feeling of squeezing/beating/carving the life force out of a humans body.
When the Dark Lord fell, he and three other death eaters (including his brother and his brother's wife Bellatrix) searched for their Master, and eventually tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom into madness in the process. The four faithful followers were imprisoned in Azkaban for their efforts, proclaiming their loyalty to Voldemort and his cause even long after the cell doors closed and no one was around to hear them. This first stint in Azkaban took a terrible toll on Rabastan's sanity, though it had less to do with the Dementor's and more to do with a personal vendetta against him. One of the guards took particular offense to Rabastan's smart mouth, and sought to make the younger Lestrange's life sentence feel like an eternity in Hell, and not long into his sentence, Rabastan found himself praying for 'the kiss'. By the time the guard was fired two years later (for unnecessary violence inflicted on the prisoners) Rabastan's right, non dominant hand was rendered nearly useless.
Well over a decade later, his Master turned back up on the scene, and freed his Loyal Death Eaters from their small, dank cells, and thrust them right back into the beginning of another war. A short time after his 'release', a small incident at the Department of Ministries saw him, and several other DE's back in Azkaban, though that time was short, much to Rabastan's relief.
After he was released from Azkaban for the second time, Rabastan went back to doing what he loved so dearly. Raids, Imperiusing innocent Muggles for fun when he's got the time, working to get his good looks back in check (especially his teeth. He's ashamed to admit that it took more than a handful of absolutely painful charms to get those back right and proper) and being a faithful servant to the Master he's all but given his life for.
I found the bones of several animals (and one small human? I cannot be sure)near my cottage this morning. Seems the slicing wards that were set up before my departure did actually work, and quite well, much to my relief.
My things are intact, and unused, just as I left them. It's amazing what a house elf will do, the lengths a loyal one will go to for their Master. My instructions to him were to keep the place clean, and not to leave the cottage for any reason. I found his bones in a corner upstairs covered with a shabby blanket after I assessed everything in the house. Starved to death probably. Little bugger set a dusting charm of some sort to dust the place it seems, because everything here is immaculate, and he's--well he's been dead a long bloody time.
But, my children are all well, and accounted for. They were a sight for these sore eyes. Some of their blades even seemed to glisten welcome to me when I entered the room, perhaps with the hope that they would soon find themselves being put to good use once again.
Third Person (200+ words. This may be for any character, people with characters in game can skip this section).