Out of Character:Name: Lynn
Gender: Female
Age: 20-ish
How you found Potter's Army: The wonderful contraption known as Google.
Any other characters on Potter's Army: Nope. I'm a Newb here.
Anything else: When I think of something I'll let ya know.
In Character
Name: Mordecai Gunther Willaburn-Warton the Second
Nicknames: Mort, but only by those who know him well.
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Year AND Age: 44 years young.
Preferred houses: Graduated from the Woza Nambodi School of Magic in South Africa. Quidditch Coach and Trainer for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Birthday: April 1
Canon or Original: Original
Play-by: Russell Crowe
Blood Status: Half-Blood.
Height: 6'3
Hair: Dark brown and on the longish side. Slightly wavy and always messy. Comes with the territory. Those wind currents are not forgiving.
Eye colour: Blue-grey
Skin: Caucasian.
Other distinguishing features: Scars. He's got them. A lot of them. All part and parcel of his line of work. There's a particularly interesting one across his shoulders that he received when an old Quidditch Rival attempted to beat the living daylights out of him after a hard-won match. The bugger broke his damn broom over Mordecai's back. But, in pure Mort fashion, you should have seen the other guy. He also has a few pieces of body art that he acquired during his travels. I won't say where and I won't say of what. Some of them don't quite meet the Hogwarts Teaching Staff guidelines.
Personality: Mordecai is a barrel a laughs who lives large, has a big heart and a temper to match it. Being what he is, a natural born rogue and a rough-and-tumble bounder to boot, Mordecai is nothing short of a good time. Wherever he goes excitement is sure to follow a few steps behind. It is not in his nature to back down from anything, be it a challenge, a class 5 hurricane, or a man-eating East African Nundu. He wouldn't have survived for as long as he did if he was a doubting Thomas.
Having spent twenty of his forty four years as a professional Quidditch Player for the New Zealand Moutohora Macaws (six of those years were spent "earning his dents" with the Australian farm team) he has seen and done just about everything he's always wanted to do. His profession has taken him to the far corners of the world and back again and the stories he tells always leaves the local pub bursting with eager listeners. Like the time he crossed paths with a rather attractive Sphinx while in Egypt for a Quidditch convention. Story goes he somehow ended up getting both himself and the wile sphinx drunk on the local "fire water" and they spent the entire night carousing by the pyramids, swapping tales and singing bawdy sea-shanties of all things. Good times that. Mind you he has still yet to complete his goal of riding an Antipodean Opaleye bare-back but for the most part Mordecai has lived the classic life of adventure.
Skills: Mordecai is a brave man and a caring one. He's an accomplished flier and can normally handle just about anything good ol' Mother Nature decides to throw at him. However he knows that he is not invincible and underneath that booming laugh and roguish grin is a level-headed and quick-witted schemer with an eye for noticing things other people seem to pass over. Despite a few bludgers to the head, Mordecai's swiftness, both mentally and physically, is his ace in the hole and it has saved his life more times than he cares to admit. Other than that he's an accomplished conjurer, a rubbish potion maker, is quite skilled at divining the future sans a crystal ball, and a good judge of character. He always seems to know when he's being lied to.
Weaknesses: Mordecai has weaknesses just like any other man. He's a little too fond of the drink and a pretty face always turns his head. His eye-sight isn't as sharp as it used to be and he was forced to retire from the International level after a rather nasty accident involving two bludgers, a goal post and the other team's Keeper. He nearly killed the other man, skull fractures are never pleasant, and he was left with his left arm a mangled mess and his spine fractured. Even with a few months stay at a Quidditch rehabilitating center Mordecai just wasn't the same flier after that. The curse of aging I tell ya.
Likes: Mordecai loves a fast air current, an attentive audience, and a challenge where the odds are against him.
Dislikes: Loathes the quiet life. He considers desk-work to be a form of corporal punishment that is meted out unjustly by Life. Politics and politicians, both Muggle and Magical, deserve to be knocked into outer orbit by one of his haymaker bludgers to the chest.
Motto: "Curse first ask questions later." and "There are three things that you need to learn in life. One, never trust a man who doesn't drink. Two, never make a pass at another man's woman while he's in the room. And three. Duck. It'll save your life."
Family Information: Mordecai was never much of a family man. His mother was a feisty Australian witch who ended up marrying a Muggle soccer player. He was born and raised in South Africa, where he attended the local School of Magic once he reached the appropriate age. Mordecai never had the urge to settle down to start a family. He lives his life as a confirmed bachelor and is too set in his ways to change things now.
Background: After graduation he spent two years trying out for various Quidditch teams and got his lucky break with the Australian Thundelarra Thunderers. From there he worked his way up to the top and stayed there for over two decades, making him one of the six oldest professional Quidditch players in the last century. Since retiring from the sport Mordecai has gone north in order to keep himself busy. He heard through the grape-vine that Hogwarts was looking to hire a Quidditch Coach, so he packed up his collection of racing brooms and flew on over to Great Britain to see a man about a Quaffle.
Short Roleplay: "HOLLUP!" Mordecai had to roar at the top of his voice in order to be heard above the howling wind that whipped through the Quidditch pitch. Even so, the few courageous younglings that had braved the unforgiving weather could do little more than clutch the handles of their broomsticks for dear life and fight to keep their nose in the wind, least they get blown right off the school grounds.
Blast it. He should have postponed the tryouts to a later date but with the season so close to starting Mordecai couldn't afford to wait any longer. Growling mixed oaths under his breath he ran a free hand through his hair in order to get it out of his eyes while he stayed aloft of his bucking Firebrand IV using his knees to keep himself locked onto the sleek wooden handle. Mordecai wasn't afraid of the wind. He had seen worse and experienced deadlier. Yet the children were nothing short of terrified for their young lives as they bobbed and swayed as the cruel north-easterly tried its best to unseat a few of them.
"McKinnon. To the post!" A sharp blast from the silver whistle that hung around his neck was enough to make the lanky third-year sweep up to the three goal posts and take his position in front of the middle one. Despite his hawkish appearance the boy had a great sense of balance on his broom and just by watching him sit there Mordecai knew that the kid would be someone to reckon with.
Good. A keeper should always be hungry to meet the opponent head on.
Now, who to let take the first shot?
"Sir! Sir! Coach Warton!" A faint female voice caught his attention before he could make a decision between the impish second-year on the Swallow Tail or the burly fifth year on the Meteor V. Mordecai whipped his head around just in time to see a small figure swathed in black school robes point dramatically over his head. Following her direction Mordecai cranked his head up and instantly zeroed in on the problem. One of the trainees couldn't control her broom and instead of keeping the nose level with the wind she must have accidentally tilted it up, catching the wind and loosing control over her broom. With the wind snarling in his ears it was impossible to hear her screaming but judging from the way her legs were swinging she was going to loose her seat. That was a thirty five foot drop that Mordecai wasn't about to let happen.
"Arrrr, hell's teeth!" He spat into the wind as he gripped his broom and angled himself upward. The familiar rush of frigid air drained the blood from his face as he soared straight up like an arrow, chest firmly planted on the handle in order to minimize the drag resistance. Icy claws tore at his robes in a feeble attempt to pull him down toward the earth but Mordecai was having none of it. He didn't bother calling out to the girl as she swung upside-down and barely managed to hang on. She wouldn't have heard him and it was a waste of breath. Instead Mordecai focused all of his attention on a patch of sky about ten feet under her and guided the Firebrand there.
"C'mon love, c'mon." He hissed between clenched teeth as he closed in on the spot and not a moment too soon. The girl's broom swerved sharply to the right and was then buffeted to the left as the gale toyed with it and with a shrill scream that nearly made his ears bleed the girl lost her grip on the broom handle and plummeted downward. He snagged her before she lost more than five feet of air space.
"Easy now, I gotcha. I gotcha, take it easy." He withdrew his wand of the wide belt around his waist and flicked it at the wayward broomstick. Instantly the broom turned about and began to follow closely behind him as he carefully positioned the girl in front of him and began to make his decent. It wasn't easy seeing how she was shaking violently and gasping between muffled sobs. Poor kid. Probably the first time she was ever unseated. It was always scary the first time around, and then the second, and the third. Still, a thirty five foot drop was enough to make most people shiver in their seats.
"I...I...I c-c-c...," With teeth chattering like castanets the girl tried to say something but nothing seemed to come out.
"No worries love. I know you were only trying to impress me. Just hang on tight and don't try to impress anyone else with your wild stunts. You've got to try-out not show off for a chance to make the team eh?" He chuckled lightly, keeping his voice calm and leveled as they descended to the sidelines were the other students had smartly enough decided to wait until the crisis had passed.
by Mordecai Warton Tue Sep 29, 2009 3:34 am
