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Krause, Samuel Graham
|samuel graham krause
38 | it ends in flames.
Member No.: 708
Joined: 4-August 11
Samuel Graham Krause
WHEN YOU SEE MY FACE HOPE IT GIVES YOU HELL HOPE IT GIVES YOU HELL
NOW WHERE'S YOUR PICKET FENCE LOVE
AND WHERE'S THAT SHINY CAR AND DID IT EVEN GET YOU FAR?
» ALIAS Yuu
» GENDER female
» AGE&ROLEPLAY 22 & 7 to 8 years
» OTHER CHARACTERS none so far
» CONTACT ME an owl should do just fine, but you may try to reach me over MSN and e-mail as well
YOU NEVER SEEMED SO TENSE LOVE
I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU FALL SO HARD DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?
» BIRTH NAME Samuel Graham Krause
» NICKNAMES The Dog
» BIRTH DATE November 1990
» GENDER male
» AGE 35
» HOUSE Ravenclaw alumnus
» OCCUPATION Currently a street boxer in Russia; once employed at Ministry of Magic, Auror Office; Head Auror under the Lestrange administration; previously Ministry of Magic, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beast Division
» SEXUALITY presumably heterosexual
AND THE TRUTH BE TOLD I MISS YOU
AND TRUTH BE TOLD I'M LYING AND TRUTH BE TOLD I'M LYING
» HEIGHT 6’2”
» WEIGHT 70 kg
» BUILDtall and sinewy, surprisingly well-defined lower arms
» EYE SHADE charcoal
» HAIR SHADE red
» DISTINCT FEATURES thin, long nose, gaunt-faced, a permanent hardness to the eyes, a myriad of small and larger scars reminiscent of a violent life.
» PORTRAYAL Danila Polyakov
YOU'LL BE THINKING TO YOURSELF
WHERE'D IT ALL GO WRONG? BUT THE LIST GOES ON AND ON
» OVERALL PERSONALITY
A man as rigid as his wand, Krause knows no room for sentimentality. He stands for his allegiance with unwavering conviction, but remains cautious in regard to his personal life and seems to shield himself with propaganda and sharp judgment to such a degree that any true personal opinions remain shrouded in the clouds of the unsaid. A Ravenclaw rather than a Slytherin, Krause is rare to exhibit outbursts of genius. Those who have known him for a longer period of time will testify, however, that he is much more clever and premeditated than he lets on and harbors an agenda of his own: a poisonous concoction of traits which render him an extremely dangerous man.
Distant and guarded most of the time, he seeks to keep a sense of professionalism bordering on obsessive compulsion. Krause harbors aspirations to advance amongst the ranks of Purebloods however, and is perfectly capable of willing himself into a more charismatic shape of man, though a proper sense of humor seems lost on him.
He may have made a good politician, had it sparked his interest, but seems more comfortable not lacing his words in honey and silk and being considered socially awkward.
Little love seems to be lost on pursuing women or other non-work-related pastimes, but it is said that he has a strong affinity for animals and beasts even after a long career of dealing with their angry cousins, and keeps some at home as companions.
Krause is a strict vegetarian.
animals and beasts, preferably dangerous ones
cigarettes(a guilty pleasure he likes to keep a secret)
hot summer days
large bodies of water he can’t see the bottom of
affinity with animals
quick to identify lies
» BAD HABITS
getting caught up in his habits
disregarding the safety of others
The assassination of Alana Lestrange
His father standing by his side, Alana as his wife
Fire, dog and grass after spring rain; Alana's perfume
A very large and deformed wolf
YOU CAN TAKE BACK YOUR MEMORIES
AND HERE'S ALL YOUR LIES YOU CAN LOOK ME IN THE EYES
Unknown wizard father
Samuel harbors a hate for his mother so deep-rooted and passionate that the mention of her person alone suffices to anger him something fierce. A devout and very old-fashioned catholic, she feared that which she could not understand and attempted to beat what she believed to be Satan out of her son ever since his first exhibition of magical traits. Krause will not speak of his mother and her fate and other witches and wizards generally know better than to risk asking.
At the opposite side of his very limited spectrum of affection lies Samuel’s father. Though having never known the man or even his name, Krause has taken to idolize the image he has had of his father ever since he was a young boy: namely that of a proud and unyielding Pureblood wizard, the complete opposite of his Muggle mother. It is this reverence of an absent role model that has inspired him to take his chosen path in life and become a soldier for the cause he is convinced his father would be proud of.
» OTHER SIGNIFICANT FIGURES
Alana Lestrange; childhood crush and love of his life.
Ruby Rhea Vaisey; close friend.
» BLOOD STATUS Half-blood » HOMETOWN St Cleer, Cornwall.
» HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
The child of a devout catholic Muggle mother and an absent wizard father, Samuel's start in life wasn't a particularly good one. Although the twentieth century was a progressive age, small religious communities remained conservative and did not look kindly upon single mothers. Miss Krause, in turn, felt more shame than she did love for her child. Shunned by other children in his village, Samuel grew up finding a myriad of ways to amuse himself.
After a time, he came to befriend the stray cats and smaller feral animals in the neighboring woods.
When those feral animals were, in turn, set on an older boy who'd been particularly bent on bullying the young Samuel and got fairly seriously injured in the process, things went downhill quickly.
Samuel began to exhibit uncanny abilities, some of which Miss Krause could only explain to be the work of demons and black magic; the same demonic powers that the boy's father must have possessed. To see her own innocence restored and chase the demons from the boy, she did the only thing she knew to be right and punished every magical escapade.
The Hogwarts letter came like a godsent. Though her religious duty would not see a devout believer disown a child, sending him off to the boarding school she believed Hogwarts to be was a perfect solution.
A bright child despite his rather unenlightened childhood environment, Samuel was sorted into Ravenclaw house. It was there that he came to realize that there was less evil in his magic than there was in Muggles like his mother. He began associating himself with and becoming heavily influenced by elitist Pureblood students, soon preferring their company over that of Muggleborn students.
It was during this period, when he found himself increasingly close to members of Slytherin house in particular and eager to listen to their stories.
He would never find out the identity of his father, but that did not stop Samuel Krause declaring his father must have certainly been a Pureblood. His image of what a Pureblood wizard should be so drastically shaped by the stories and opinions of his fellow students, Samuel only naturally assumed that his father must be a radical noble not unlike the major Pureblood families which had descendents in Slytherin house.
As a result, an intense desire to forsake his Muggle heritage and following in the footsteps of an imaginary father by one day becoming a hero for a regime of wizard supremacy was born.
The boy was never well loved by his fellow Ravenclaws with the exception of perhaps one or two who shared very Slytherin-like views on blood purity and such.
A half-blood with such sentiments as Samuel’s would never sit too well with his housemates however, and it was as such that he never took to socializing much outside his circle of sympathizers.
There was a reason to his admittance into Ravenclaw before he ever began to explore any purist sentiments however, and that was his quick wit.
A brilliant student when he set his mind to something, he excelled particularly in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures; his affinity with animals one of the few constants throughout his life.
It was that same affinity which set him to start a strict vegetarian diet not long after coming to Hogwarts, a diet he continues to the present.
It was unfortunate that Krause never did set his mind to many things outside of his area of interest, so most of his grades were very average. Usually quiet and not quick to take the initiative, he was the boy who would sit mostly unnoticed at a desk somewhere, providing answers to questions only when prompted and spending the rest of his time either listening or pretending to listen.
Though well and comfortable within his circle of contacts throughout his Hogwarts career, Slytherins had a way of seeing to it that mutually beneficial relationships were exactly that; a symbiosis where involved parties aimed to profit from one another, and one that usually had little to do with such values as friendship and trust.
Where his fellows spoke of high ranking careers with the Ministry, so did Samuel follow their ambitions; most likely more out of a wish to be amongst those he considered his peers than a true wish to become a Ministry official.
It is said that Krause never spent a summer vacation in his hometown after his first year. How much is true of this remains a moot point, but it seems that at least sometime during his years at Hogwarts, he began shunning his mother and her precious Muggle community.
The boy became the man, and the man worked under the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, following in the footsteps of his fellows, be it in a much more humble office which nevertheless proved more well-suited to his interests. Described as a reserved workaholic by his colleagues, many years of service hardly saw Krause on a first-name basis with most of them. Still, he seemed to excel in his job and in a career spanning close to seventeen years, did not take any days off that were not issued on him due to injury or other reasons. Though not a frequent guest at high society get-togethers, he remained on an amiable basis with most of his Hogwarts fellows and kept pursuing purist sentiments, if hardly to the obvious and poorly planned extremes of the Elite.
It was not until Septimus’ ascending to power that Krause was transferred to the Ministry’s Auror Office, where he served as one of the Sovereign’s most devout followers, a habit which earned him the mocking nickname “The Dog”. His bite turned out worse than his bark when he changed loyalties in favor of childhood friend Alana Lestrange in her plans for insurgence and hostile takeover.
The support earned him a brief career as Head Auror of the newly established Lestrange office.
HE'S A FOOL YOU'RE JUST AS WELL
HOPE IT GIVES YOU HELL WHEN YOU WALK MY WAY HOPE IT GIVES YOU HELL
» LET THE CREDITS ROLL
thanks to mandy at call my bluff & caution 2.0 for all of the coding!
thanks to the all american rejects for the lyrics!
thanks to my own patience i don't know what i would do without ya.
colours and such edited slightly by evie of dorkus malorkus
if you steal this i will send my pink polka dotted stuffed cougar after you.
|samuel graham krause
38 | it ends in flames.
Member No.: 708
Joined: 4-August 11
He smiled at me, a feral and toothy grin. The state of them was appalling; yellowed and rotten with barely a difference from the golden canine he’d doubtlessly won over a corpse or two. I could smell the pungent stench of his breath from where I stood some good ten feet away from him.
The crowd was howling for blood. I need not apply the humble smattering of Russian I had picked up to deduce that they wanted to see me torn to ribbons. I couldn’t blame them; I wouldn’t have placed a bet on myself either. My opponent was nearly as tall as I was and his girth at least twice mine. He was all taut beef and muscle and tendon, a juggernaut with a neck as thick as a log and a hard, square-set jaw like the bumper off an automobile. He knew how to make a right show of his entrance, too; he flexed, spat and snorted, growled threats in his low rumble of a voice.
I gingerly rolled my sleeves up beyond my elbow, avoided eye contact.
Just a month ago, I had been new to this sort of game, and I had despised it. I was to be at the mercy of the whims of Muggles; perhaps not the worms that were directly responsible for my flight, but inferior meatsuits nonetheless.
I’d had no choice, though. I had nothing but my wand, the clothes on my back and an unhealthy dose of indiscriminate anger. And however much the notion of surviving in the unbridled wild might have appealed to be once, I had known that I needed more to sustain myself.
It had been dumb luck that I should run into Vasily Polzin, or rather, have him run into me, because I couldn’t for the life of me recall what had happened between my escape from London and waking up to Polzin’s goons looking at me like I was about to grow an extra set of limbs.
Between Polzin’s accounts and what shreds remained to me between lengthy memory lapses, I must have spent the first two weeks of my exile in a state of utter delirium, fever-ridden and incoherent on good days; a violator at worse times.
By Merlin’s graces the full moon came shortly after my escape-- perhaps sooner than my shell-shocked body could handle since I’d had no real time to recover from the London incident, but they found me trembling and naked save for the blood and dirt I had on me.
I had once explained the first transformation to dozens of werewolves-to-be with cool detachment. Ruby Vaisey had been my latest and last, but certainly more graceful than most. I had been wrong in assuming my knowledge and experience would prepare me, at least in part, for what was in store.
I’d tried to claw my way out of my skin when it stretched across my misshapen bones until it burst. My vision went from red to black and back again and at one point or another, the ripping of muscle and snapping of bones had me in such agony that I must have blacked out and let whatever was bursting out of me take over. After that, there were only vague memories of blood and fear, distant voices, a bed, hellish fevers, endless torment and screaming(I never found out if it was my own or someone else’s).
It might have felt like dying if I hadn’t already died in my office in London.
Once I snapped out of my insanity, I had some lengthy, if simple conversations(admittedly, Polzin’s English was a deal better than my Russian) with my unlikely patron. Of course I’d made a point of uncovering exactly how much he knew and what he had seen. In the end, it took some back-tracking –I’d mustered the sense to hide my wand somewhere safe almost immediately after my escape- and one or two charms to erase some things and add a few profitable suggestions, but I dared not go further. I knew exactly what methods my pursuers might use to trace me where I thought I was safe: I’d extensively abused them myself.
I was a dead man in most every sense but for my beating heart.
Vasily Polzin had simply been the first vulture to come pick at my corpse.
My opponent roared something in an angry dialect when his name was called, threw the sledgehammers he had for fists up to aggravate more excitement from the riff-raff that had paid hard-earned money to see my blood flow.
I could smell Vasily, hear his calm breathing. I found him without having to let my eyes wander. To me, he stood out like a carrion crow amidst chirping robins. If I inhaled deeply enough, I could probably sniff out which of his goons he’d brought tonight, but I couldn’t give half a bloody fuck about their little games.
I didn’t do much to acknowledge the announcing of my name. The crowd booed.
Then, before our meaty announcer could get well and proper out of the way to announce the start of the fight, the Russian was on me.
He was surprisingly fast for such a big fellow, and slammed his callused fist full-force into my stomach. It hurt, so I doubled over, let out a surprised wheeze, tried to scramble away. This time he grabbed a fistful of my hair –I had let it grow too long as of late- and jerked me back. His knee against my spine might as well have been a battering ram, and I was well aware of some pain racking my bones, but it was a kind of nagging ache, more numb than debilitating, and I had to will myself to let out a hoarse cry and sink shakily onto my knees.
The crowd roared again.
I raised my arms feebly to protect my head when he laid into me again, until our announcer-annex-referee stepped in and screamed something, broke us apart and left me just enough time to get back onto my feet and rethink my willingness to endure a second round.
My back straightened when I heard an alarmed shout, watched as my opponent produced some sort of steel pipe-construction from somewhere in the crowd and came at me again.
I caught the first blow with my left underarm. Our eyes locked for a split second. I saw mild surprise, repaid it with a peck on his nose.
He immediately grabbed for his face and stumbled back. I smelt the blood before I saw it, but he wasn’t letting up. This time the pipe connected with my rib cage. In my annoyance, I forgot to overplay the blow and tore the weapon from his hands more easily than I had expected.
Polzin looked somewhat nauseous when I was done. I almost felt alive.
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