[D&D-5e] Mysteries of Bleakhaven Prep School

[Berith]

Application - Grace Hoxie Name: Grace Catherine Hoxie Race: Ghost Personality: Raised in a far simpler time, Grace is trusting, deferential to authority, and a little naive. She's also smart and possesses a pioneer's deep practicality, resilience, and common sense. It's pretty easy for her to get overwhelmed by the reality of modern life. Appearance: Grace is a perky, cute brunette who looks and dresses a bit younger than her fifteen years. She's short and lithe, with a gymnast's build, and has a bright smile that emerges easily from her face. When she's nervous or feeling self-conscious, which is pretty often, she habitually brushes her dark hair away from her eyes. Backstory: It took almost four hundred years for Grace to learn that she was dead. That sounds hard to believe, but things are different for a kid who died of the flu on a remote farm in northern Maine in the Year of our Lord 1626. When you wake up after a long illness and your parents tell you the fever broke and you're better, you believe them. When you start to notice that nobody is getting older and they regale you with stories of Adam, Moses, and Methuselah, all of whom lived for century upon century, you believe them. When you live in the wilderness, where the Bible is your only book and the moose massively outnumber people, you don't have much of a frame of reference. And over those centuries, unbeknownst to you the world moves closer and closer to your isolated little farm, and eventually your parents have to tell you the truth. And because fifteen is fifteen no matter when you lived or died, you freak the hell out when they do.   Grace's parents were wise enough to spread the blows out somewhat. Learning that she had been dead for almost four centuries had knocked her for a loop, but at the same time the knowledge made so many incongruous things fall into place with perfect clarity. And to be honest, she realized, being a ghost wasn't that bad. If nothing else, there was no longer any need to do her chores - Grace knew now that they'd been illusions all along. Learning about the 21st century and everything that had transpired since she died gave her shock after shock. England ("The United Kingdom," she reminded herself crossly) was no longer the world's preeminent power, hadn't been for a long time. What she couldn't help but think of as "the colonies" were now something called a "superpower". Women wore pants like men, if they wanted! Pretty much nobody believed in witches, ghosts, demons, or devils. But those things were very real and always had been. She should know. "I have to do what," Grace wailed, flopping down on her bed, face first. The fact that both she and the bed were incorporeal didn't make the flop any less satisfying. "You have to leave, child," her father said, sitting at the foot of her illusory bed. Old habits died hard. "The world's moving in on us, closer and closer by the day," he continued. "Won't be long before there's a Walmart or a dialysis center right where our farm's always been, and then what?" Joshua Hoxie had been a large man in life and remained so in death. He stood and stretched to his full height, almost bumping his head on the low ceiling. "Your mother and I, child, we are old, tired. This world has no place for us. You are our world, and it's time for you to learn how to live in this one. At Bleakhaven, you'll meet other young ones learning to make their way in this strange world, and teachers to help you. As you honor us, you'll go. We love you, child. Know that always." For a long time after her father left, Grace wept insubstantial tears into a nonexistent pillow. It was like her emotions were the only things that were still real, stronger than ever, in fact. In time, the sobs subsided and her form relaxed into the deep sleep only the dead can manage. Two weeks later, she assumed the human form that she'd been practicing and gathered up a few small things. Walking out, she saw that her father had already loaded her brand new suitcases into the waiting "Uber". Seeing them in modern guise was the strangest thing she'd ever seen, and the shock caused her illusion to ripple just a bit. Steeling herself, she embraced her father and mother in a bear hug and whispered, "I love you." It was impossible to tell whose tears were wetting whose cheeks. After a long moment, her mother took a deep breath and said, "It's time, dear Gracie. Our love and God's with you always." "Sleep you sound, Mama. Rest you well, Papa," was all Grace was able to get out before fleeing outside, into the waiting car. She knew her parents would be at rest long before she reached the faraway school. Every end offered a new beginning.

[Arthilian01]

Make sure to give me a heads-up when you think your applications are complete. You are welcome to tweak up until I make a decision though, of course.

[Dark Lady Zannah]

My application is complete. Feel free to let me know if I inadvertently missed something or there is something I need to tweak for approval.

[Berith]

Grace is done. Comments welcome.

[Arthilian01]

Wonderful applications!

[Odyssey]

My application is finished. Let me know if anything needs to be worked on or changed, and I'll do that right away!

[cookieyummy]

You keep having interesting ideas I'm definitely interested and try get an application up as soon as possible.

[Roekahs]

Application Name: Darren vanderSteen Race: Troll Personality: 'Darren' was a fortuitous name choice as it readily lent itself to be shortened to "Dare", which is what Darren is most often called. He has no fear and will often put himself in harm's way for the thrill (and entertainment of others). Aside from his thrill-seeking, Darren is a pretty easy going kid. He has never wanted for anything, yet understands that most others do not live the way that he does. Despite never attending a school (only private tutors), Darren makes friends easily, although he does have some insecurities as to whether his friends like him or just like watching him do crazy things. Appearance: Darren dresses well, but certainly nothing to hint at the vast wealth that his family has. His favorite leather jacket is not far from him at any time. While Darren likes the way it looks, it serves a much more valuable purpose - keeping him (mostly) intact during some of his crazier stunts. He also always wears a silver necklace. The necklace has no real value and, bluntly, is a piece of junk. It has been bent and dented more times than Darren can remember, but for whatever reason it remains one of his most prized possessions. Darren wears his dirty blonde hair just long enough to stay out of his piercing brown eyes, but otherwise he makes no effort to modify it after getting out of bed. Backstory: Darren had a typical childhood … well, typical for someone living in a mansion and raised by everyone except one’s parents. Still things had been fine – he got along with the staff and did well in his studies. He even made some friends in a nearby neighborhood. These friends lived a much more modest life than Darren and he worked hard to keep his life hidden from them – never having friends to his house and walking home alone. As they grew into their teenage years, the boys began to act like teenage boys: roughhousing, making (and completing) dares, and being generally reckless. Darren loved the recklessness and particularly any stunt on any set of wheels. He purchased an old worn down trick-bike and a beat up skateboard (continuing to hide his life from the others) and would regularly complete dares whether they were spoken aloud or simply perceived. Darren also began to gain a fascination for material things. He began to hoard watches, necklaces, and rings in his room. Many of them were purchased, but others were borrowed without the owner’s consent. Darren would see things and just - need - them. The strangest thing, however, was that he never had a desire to wear, or show off in any way his collection. He just wanted them to have them. And he felt bad about the things he took, but he couldn’t bring himself to return them. It had been Darren’s 15th birthday. His parents were in … well they weren’t home - Darren could never remember where they were at any given moment. He had let the house staff know that he was going out and had raced through the streets to meet up with his friends. None of them knew what day it was and Darren had no intention of telling them, but he was in an extra daring mood. As the day wore on, Darren’s risky stunts continued to build. It wasn’t until around 9:30pm that things finally came unhinged. They had found themselves at the top of Snake Canyon. Without hesitation, Darren had tossed his board down and mounted his bike. "Superman!" he called as he turned the wheel toward the steep slope and disappeared over the edge. The shouts of dismay from his friends were quickly drowned out by the exhilaration as trees flew by on either side while he tried to steer his way through the maze at breakneck speed. Then Darren felt a jolt and had the feeling of flying. Moments later, a jolt of pain wracked his body. When his eyes cleared, Darren looked up to see a decapitated body right in front of his face. The body was tangled in a twisted mass of a … red frame … and tires? The sight was revolting. Darren turned away gagging, but instead of the body leaving his sight, the body shifted and his eyes remained where they had been. It took a little while for Darren to come to terms with the fact that (1) the body was his, (2) it was separated from his head, and (3) he still had control over it. After (literally) pulling himself together, Darren returned to his friends. Dazed, he announced that he was returning home. The entire memory felt like a dream, but it felt so real too. He sought out the house staff that was gathered in the kitchen asking if anyone had heard of such a thing. They listened and gave him the usual platitudes before wishing him goodnight. Still stunned and confused, Darren went to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, the staff woke Darren and ushered him to his father’s limousine waiting outside. Still half-asleep Darren just went with it. When Darren woke again, the car was parked outside a large building with a sign that read “Bleakhaven Preparatory School for Gifted Youth” – whatever that was.   Arrival The previous days events slowly crept back into Darren's mind, somewhere between a dream and reality. Of course it had to have been a dream, people died when they were decapitated. Besides, there wasn't a bruise or scrape anywhere on his body, so it couldn't have been his body that had been tangled in the bike. Of course now he was - well here ... wherever here was - and not home so he couldn't go back and get his bike and try to figure out what happened. Darren doubted that anyone had thought to throw his bike or board in the limo, so there would be no way to confirm if the bike was damaged from here. Darren shook his head and climbed across the backseat toward the door closest to the building - er, school? Before he could grab the handle, the door swung open. He climbed out, stretched, and yawned loudly. He knew it annoyed Anastasia, the driver, to no end and he took entirely too much pleasure in pretending like annoying her somehow annoyed his father. "Your father sends his regards. He, unfortunately, could not be here." Darren heard Anastasia say. So it had been his father who sent him here. But why? The memory of the previous day flashed back into his mind. Had the house-staff snitched to his parents? Suddenly, a devastating thought popped into his head, Oh crap! Was this a crazy-person "school"? A quick glance around, however, momentarily dissuaded Darren of that notion - there were no straight-jackets or white coats in sight. Taking a deep breath Darren shrugged and strode forward completely ignoring Anastasia. With each step his disappointment lessened. This was exactly something his parents would do, so what was the point in being upset. There were kids his age everywhere. In fact, the more he thought about things, this situation was certainly way better than being stuck in his stupid house alone all day while his friends were in school. He was definitely going to miss those friends and he would have to find a way to get in touch with them, but for now the perks were far outweighing the detriments! Darren finally made it to the doorway where all the others were filing in and out. He stood there for a moment, getting bumped by a few people. He watched several others slowly wind and squeeze their way through the gathering toward a few tables along the far wall. It only took Darren a moment to see the better route. With just a few quick steps, he sprung up onto the nearest table. Then with practiced grace, he proceeded to leap from table to table, bounding over groups of students. Darren made certain that each table jump was unique - hurdle one group, then flip over the next. In no time, he was standing on the floor in front of the tables. Well aware of the attention he had drawn, and the look he received from the man behind the desk, Darren continued as if nothing strange had happened. After telling the man his name, he was handed a piece of paper without so much as a rebuke for his antics. Surprised, Darren glanced down at the piece of paper. A class schedule? He quickly glanced it over and was relieved to note that "shock therapy" was not listed anywhere. Perhaps this really was just a boarding school. He had petitioned for those before, but it never seemed to be something his parents would consider. With a shrug, Darren turned toward the nearest table, but before he could leap atop again, the man behind the table cleared his throat loudly. Darren glanced back at the man, debating on continuing with his antic anyway. Somehow he managed to refrain himself, smiling sheepishly at the man and shrugging once more before jumping in behind a rather large boy. It took some time to get out of the room as the boy couldn't squeeze through people, but at least the path was cleared and Darren didn't have to squeeze either.

[Auron3991]

I did assume the magic curriculum is not on the brochures and website.

Application Name: Hector Leviatán Race: Couatl Personality: Couatls are bound to truth. Hector is there to prove just how little that matters. He almost habitually obfuscates, uses double meanings, and omits information. While he doesn't do it out of malice himself, the practice has made him very aware of the possibilities, and is thus what many would consider a suspicious person, always thinking people are hiding information. This doesn't seem to stop him from liking people though, as he often does little things to help others out. He also likes to push people to better themselves, usually by attempting to orchestrate chances for them to do so. Appearance: Hector's human form definitely fits the tall and handsome description. His dark hair, brown eyes, and slight umber tone to his skin indicate a Central American basis, but general facial features practically scream Spanish. His hair is kept fairly short, with just enough to justify actually carrying a comb with him. His clothing consists of blue jeans and almost white t-shirt. His most obvious feature however, is the perpetual smile on his face, although it often doesn't reach the eyes. Backstory: Hector was born and raised in Ohio as a politician's son (specifically a representative's). He learned young that deceit is a way of life, and that properly edited truth can be very misleading. This is actually how he found out about what he was: his father was always careful when answering history of the family, to an absolutely maddening degree to a young child. So naturally, he started digging like a dog with a bone. It helped that while he saw other people lying their socks off, he could not bring himself to do the same. Eventually, he managed to pull records together indicating his ancestors living far longer than any normal human. Well, it was more like a lack of records, as only so much could be explained by bad bookkeeping. When confronted, his father happily explained their nature as feathery, serpentine protectors. The next few years involved a crash course in subterfuge that wouldn't be out of place in intelligence training. When he reached the age of 14, the family traveled to Teotihuacan, ostensibly for a vacation. In reality, it was a way to impress upon him just why they had to remain hidden. As they were returning home, his parents informed him he was transferring schools the next year, specifically to one in New York he'd never heard of before. The lack of further information might as well have been a flashing neon sign that this was a test. RP Sample: Hector looked at the gate to his new school. Bleakhaven Prep certainly looked the part of an important school, but that only added to his curiosity. When his parents didn't tell him any more than the bare minimum, he had researched it, and the relative lack of information had alarm bells ringing for him. Nothing that would concern most people, due to it mostly being what wasn't said in interviews and articles, but enough that he was going to be sniffing around. Not that any of that mattered now, as he had to get his class schedule and get settled in. He fought through the throng of people, trying to avoid knocking anyone over. After several minutes (and a few apologies), he made it to the cafeteria for sign in. After a light bit of a subtle smile-off with one of the seniors, he finally had his schedule and retreated from the human labyrinth. As he made his way to his dorm, he considered his schedule: Math 2; English 2; World History; Physics; and Spanish 1 all made perfect sense, but his final slot, instead of having a class name, had a note to see a Miss Bordeaux and a time.

Okay, image in. It's just an approximation.

[Crocodile]

Application Name: Simon Lefao Race: Werebear Personality:   Agreeable to a fault, Simon always seems to try his best to get along with everyone around him, even to his own detriment. He believes wholeheartedly that a little care and compassion can turn the most dour of personalities, foster communities and create cohesion among individuals, and so does his best to keep up a positive attitude in every day life. This all comes together into making him an overly trusting sort who dives headlong into new relationships before he has had the time to properly assess the individuals he associates with. This is all fed by his need to feel as if he is a part of some greater group, as it brings him comfort knowing that he has people he can trust in his life, and people who trust him in return. When it comes to food however, he is unusually serious. Whether it be freshly picked produce or a recently hunted animal, Simon has always preferred the use of fresh ingredients in his food. To him, devouring fresh and bloody game is just as viable an option as grilling meat in a pan, the only factor being what his mood was at that particular time, and he finds it odd that anybody would take issue with his eating habits when it was the most natural thing in the world. Appearance:   Stout but noticeably chubby, Simon stands a bit taller than average for his age, with his girth in both limb and belly keeping his figure from seeming too ungainly. A smile is never far from his face, which helps to highlight his prominent, round cheeks, as well as his slightly pronounced canines. He keeps a head of messy brown hair on his head, cut so that it only reaches the nape of his neck, and on top of his tan limbs one can notice the growth of an exceptional amount of hair, especially when he wears short sleeved shirts and shorts. Unless the occasion calls for something different he wears simple, loose fitting clothing that he can easily just throw on and off at a moment's notice, and sandals whenever he can get away with it. His wardrobe mix also includes a few articles of well crafted buckskin and fur shirts, leggings, and coats meant to be worn for the appropriate weather and season. Backstory:   Simon had spent his formative years in the Enclave, a small community on the border of the St. Lawrence forest in southern Ontario. It was a place where nobody was ever a stranger, where you could ask a neighbor for help and expect to receive it in return, and where if anybody got into an argument during a full moon, things could get really ugly, really fast. Every single resident of the Enclave was a werebear, whether they had been born that way or had been taken in by the community and subsequently honored with the 'Gift of Change', as it was called. Even though their population was small, the community did absolutely everything together. Hiking, hunting, fishing, home repair, camping; every waking moment, it seemed as if you were never alone. This built a strong sense of belonging in each subsequent generation of the village, and Simon was no exception in this regard. The young werebear had taken to this wholeheartedly, enjoying the time he spent with his peers immensely and taking to heart the practical lessons of his elders for living off the land and being a warden to one's domain, just as their ancestors had lived before conflict with humanity had driven them to hiding in small pockets of wilderness. The historical stuff had gone over Simon's head, but he did enjoy the taste of freshly killed deer, juicy berries, and being able to have a good time with his friends, so it was all hunky dory. Even the night of his first change, a beautiful moonlit night under the starlit sky, was an overall pleasant experience despite the intensity of the transformation. Years of preparation for that next step in his had made it nothing more than another fact of life, though it would still require practice and discipline to deal with the urges which came with his new form, as was expected of every new cub. No, the real problem had come when his parents, the forward thinkers that they claimed to be, had packed up their things and left the Enclave behind, bringing along their newly matured son in order to give him the life they had not been able to enjoy within their small community. The next thing the thirteen year old knew, he was surrounded by steel and concrete, buildings which seemed to touch the sky, loud noises that kept him up at night, and the smell. The awful, awful smell. If his folks hadn't been running a restaurant, he did not know if he would have been able to survive the move at all. This was his introduction to the so-called 'modern world', which everyone at the Enclave knew of, but very few had ever bothered to visit more than necessary. In fact, among the very small number of werebears who had come and gone from their home on a regular basis were Simon's own parents, their curiosity having grown into a full blown scheme to buck generations of tradition and properly join wider society. No matter how much they had insisted that taking Simon away from everything he had ever known and loved was for the best, the young boy was having trouble seeing how that was possible, despite how hard he tried to make it work. That was when his parents realized that in all the years they had spent preparing for the move to civilization, they had taken the views of their son for granted. What they had also failed to account for in their haste was that although Simon had grown up with knowledge of the Gift, he was still too young to reliably control himself under duress, and they had also underestimated just how thoroughly lost he would be outside life in the Enclave. A disastrous year of public school was followed by a miserable and lonely year of home schooling. The sweet boy never complained about his imposed solitude, but it was obvious that this was not the life for him. Fortunately, a solution did present itself. News of Bleakhaven had been Simon's salvation, and upon hearing of his new school he had broken down into tears of joy then and there, grateful that he would finally be able to interact with others again without fear of drawing suspicion to himself and his family. RP Sample:   "Nova manus posterior to you too, ma'am! Thanks a bunch!" Simon accepted his schedule with gusto as he unknowingly butchered the school motto, all smiles as he gave a friendly salute to the kind older student who had helped him sign-in. He had been wearing a big, goofy grin on his face ever since he had stepped off the bus which had taken him to the campus grounds, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells of the area. On the whole, it was a much more pleasant environment than the dense urban sprawl he had been living in for the last two years. And more importantly, there were more students here, which meant more friends! After a rocky time fresh from the Enclave, things were finally starting to look up for the cub. Without further ado, the excitable lycanthrope began studying his new schedule for the semester. "Now let's see.... oh! Oh! Look, they got a Science class here!" Simon started up a conversation with the closest would-be student to him, a short boy with messy blonde hair and slightly pointed nose who had been content quietly waiting in line for his turn at the table. [SAY]Hahaha! Man, I really hope I don't make a goof of myself like I did at the last school.[SAY] "...excuse me?" The tone in the sharp faced blonde's unusually deep voice spoke volumes of how very little he wanted to to associate with the random hairy teen. Unfortunately for him, Simon didn't take the hint, and took the confused utterance as an invitation to continue speaking. "I mean, its not my fault the Enclave never had classes like that. You put a dead frog in front of me and say I'm supposed to cut it up, what am I supposed to do, not eat it? That's just a waste of perfectly good meat." The tanned teen stuck his tongue out as his face scrunched up in disgust. "Well, 'good' might not be the right word for whatever it was. Really should have given it a sniff test before chowing down, but I was super hungry at the time. You know how it is, sometimes you just need a little pick me up to get through the day." He gave his stomach a hardy slap as he grinned at his unwilling audience. "Gotta keep this little cub fed so I can focus on my studies." "What the heck are you talking about?" For the blonde teenager, the line could not move fast enough at this point. "Just makin' conversation, new buddy!" Simon knocked a friendly elbow into the smaller teen's side, knocking the wind out of him. As the blonde went into a miniature spasm, the oblivious werebear continued. "Name's Simon, and I figured if we're all gonna be spending time on campus together, I might as well get started with the bonding! Make this place feel like a real home away from home, though I guess I was already living away from home when we left the Enclave. That was a weird experience, I'll tell ya that. I mean, mom and dad said it was for the best, and the humans have definitely come up with some cool stuff, but everything feels so segregated on the outside. Nobody trusts each other, and everybody's in such a hurry they don't even have time for a nice chat. Not like you though, man. You've been a great listener so far! Let's be friends, okay? What's your name?" The blonde haired victim of overly enthusiastic friendliness let out a final string of coughs as he recovered from the unexpected assault on his person. Standing to his full height and staring daggers at Simon, the boy turned on his heel and walked off to the finally available sign-in station. "Alright, buddy! We'll catch up later!" The chubby teen waved his new friend farewell before going back the way he came, further studying his schedule on the way to his assigned dorm room, lingering for just a moment to catch a whiff of something delightful coming from the kitchens. The moment passed, and Simon hitched up his bags and headed off to make himself at home.

[Yogge Mothi]

My application is complete. Please let me know if you have any feedback or need more information.

[Auron3991]

Application is as complete to the best of my ability at the moment.

[Roekahs]

Darren is complete (apart from minor edits)

[Arthilian01]

It's good to see this much interest, I am looking forward to more.

Great applications so far! The table details your application status as well as whether your character will be scheduled for night classes or day classes.

[Stonk]

When are you taking applications till? I like your game ideas but not sure when I will have the time to build an app that I would be happy with.