Post by voldemort on Jul 18, 2011 21:43:26 GMT -5
VOLDEMORT
[/color][/font]breakin the law, breakin the law.
breakin the law, breakin the law
breakin the law, yea, breakin the law[/color][/font]
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you said you'd light a candle and you'd say a prayer for me
[/color][/font]you said you'd light a candle and you'd say a prayer for me
WELL I FEEL THE LIGHT HAS DIMMED[/color][/font]
and gone; and half the world is begging while the other half steals.
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name: Voldemort (Riddle, Tom Marvolo)
nicknames: he-who-must-not-be-named, Your Lordship, Master, etc.
gender: male
age: 69
birth date: 31st of Decembe, 1926
house: slytherin
blood type: Half-Blood
sexual orientation: -[/color][/font]
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oh, where did everything go wrong?
[/color][/font]oh, where did everything go wrong?
WELL, SOME DAYS I CAN'T BELIEVE[/color][/font]
others i'm on my knees, trying to be heard.
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physical description:Tall at nearly six feet three inches, he has a build of one at his age. Not necessarily small in build, though not too large either. Comfortably in the center of the scales.
Previous handsome with dark hair, attractive eyes and a strong jaw line, combined with a handsomely sized nose and a fit, strong build, he was very much the apple of a few woman's eyes. However, this night terror was never one for relations with woman besides planning his ultimate goals. He has kept himself far from a situation that could end up in any sort of feelings growing within himself, beside hatred, for anyone but himself.
Involved in so much dark magic took control of his physical features, distorting his face and his body. He became waxy and pale, his eyes narrowing, becoming darker, adopting a gleam of red. His nose flattened, becoming more as slits than an actual nose. He grew taller, his fingers stretching to the point of being odd long, too long. His hair disappeared, his skull being covered with the dark veins, dark magic surging through them. He took on the look of a snake, mixed with he form of a human.
Now, he appears in nothing but the blackest of cloaks, his wand comfortable hidden within his robes. He looms over his enemy, his figure and his power putting fear into even the strongest souls. Though he's not sure be appreciates how he looks, it hardly matters. So long as he continually grows stronger and becomes more frightening in one way or another, his appearance does not matter. After all, you are only as powerful as is the fear that surrounds your name, and very few dared use the name Voldemort.
play by: Ralph Fiennes
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i was your anger, and you were my fear.
[/color][/font]i was your anger, and you were my fear.
AND NOW THAT IT'S OVER, OF COURSE IT'S[/color][/font]
so clear, but you were no angel, and i was no sin.
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overall personality: Hater of all things muggle, the shadow in the night, the darkness that blocks the light. Many other names can describe the great Lord Voldemort, though few dare to think about his reign. Few dare to speak his name, much less recall all the fear and terror he has inflected upon those of the wizarding community. Aware of his power, his prowess and his abilities, he does anything but fall into the grooves of life, does anything but let others over power him.
Against allowing muggle-borns, and even some half-blood, to learn magic, his intention for the future include destroying those born from the muggle, and cutting off anyone’s ability to mate with muggles. Pureblood families will be strengthen, empowered, so long as they chose his side of the fight. Needless to say, he’s very much in dislike of muggles or mudbloods. Though he himself is a half-blood, he doesn’t believe there should be more of his own blood than the pure. With a past of abandonment, skill and the right situations, he’s been turned and molded into the perfect leader of an army against those of none magical power. He will stop at nothing to see his way, though he doesn’t make stupid, rash decisions. A strategist by nature, his thinking process has done more than save his own life a few times, but allowed him to live forever, if he wished it.
And, he does wish it. As is commonly known, Voldemort would prefer to live forever in the life of power and wealth, surrounded by worth, loyal followers, forcing the muggles to be slaves among the wizards. After all, what world would give some power and another none, and not wish the more powerful to be the master over the weak?
Respect is something he will forever demand of those around him. He does not stand down from a challenge, and he will never lose in a battle of power. With skill beyond that of many a great wizard, he doesn’t have to worry about he taken down by any old wizard to wonders into his way. Unafraid to use any magi to accomplish his goals, he’s used many terrible, unforgivable spells that will forever be his favorite among so many. Able to manipulate, torture and kill with just a flick of his wand and a few words, it’s simply lovely.
Control has always been a strong area for him, though certain situation have been known to toss him from his pedestal, but for hardly a moment before he’s found his power and stability again. He has a way of speaking, moving and acting that would lead to others knowing that they couldn’t break his concentration and he makes sure they understand he can get inside their head and make them useless. The root of command, for this lovely fellow, comes from informing his followers that they couldn’t over turn his power, even if they joined together and used their strongest spells. He takes care of those who seek to over throw his power, and he makes sure it’s done swiftly, though he leaves a very broad message to those who would want him without his reign.
Among his weak points are his need for control, his unmentionable past and his mistakes, though they are very few. He refuses to speak of his past with anyone, and they do not haunt him, being forced from his mind when the thoughts come up. The few things that have gone wrong in his plans have been banned from conversations, and only brought up at dire times, with the risk of a life being lost in the event.
Among the things the Lord of Evil wants to accomplish, ruling the world would be among them. Destroying the possibility of his boggart becoming true, his own corpse, is also among the highest of his priorities, though he’s already taken every precaution against that reality.
Never seeking any sort of affection from any female, male or creature, he’s off the charts in the direction of love. He wouldn’t imagine any such being would come up that would be worth his time or his power. Though some think Bellatrix might be a possibility, he has no interest and holds her in the regards of a loyal follower, powerful and bright, nothing else. He finds none attractive, none beautiful or in any way worth more than a moment in his vision. His only love is himself and the power that comes with his current position.
Sadistic, dark and frightening to the point of making children cry, he soon plans to return to full power. Soon, he plans to take the world and make it his own and make the mudblood and the muggles pay for forcing the magic to be hidden, to be kept a secret. A world where magic can be free, and he the master of it all; that is this dream, his future world. A certain boy stands in his way, as well as an organization of muggle lovers. They will all fall, dead before his feet their blood strengthening his cause. He will win, and he will have control. He will do anything for that power, anyone destroyed. Watch, for he will have his way in the end.[/color][/font]
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but somehow i just can't let it go, can't let it go. half
[/color][/font]but somehow i just can't let it go, can't let it go. half
THE WORLD IS SLEEPING WHILE THE OTHER[/color][/font]
half dreams, you close your eyes and then you're gone
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family: Merope Gaunt - Mother
Tom Riddle Sr - Father
Morfin Gaunt - Uncle
Salazar Slytherin - Relative
overall history: New Years. So many were out, celebrating joy and a new start for the world. So many would be out with their families, with their friends, with their loved ones, singing and dancing and drinking. However, a certain Merope Gaunt was having a child in the dead of the night. She would die from the birth as she had predicted, but she would not leave the child to die. An orphanage had been found, and the child was born there. A name given, then death.
From then on, Tom Marvolo Riddle was an orphan, without a hope or a past. His parents were, to his knowledge, both dead, any relatives gone and lost. It wasn’t a happy base for a child, and Tom wasn’t going to try to make it any brighter, wasn’t going to sugar coat the situation. As he grew older, he started to influence those in the orphanage, started to manipulate what they did and how they did it. He soon discovered his strange abilities could harm others; he could move objects with his mind. It wasn’t long before animals were doing as he instructed them as well, and he found he could speak directly with snakes. The abilities helped to put him above the other children, though they would never befriend him. He was utterly alone with nothing but his abilities and he used them to their fullest. No one touched the dark haired, pale orphan. No one bothered him when he wanted to be left alone. It was the way he wanted it to be.
However, someone did come and he was disturbed one day. He met with a man named Mr. Dumbledore. The man was odd in the most curious of fashions. There was a certain way the air moved around him. Or was it that he moved the air? In either case, he was odd. In the same way that Tom himself was odd. After a quick conversation, a confession of sins and an opportunity presented, he quickly became a future student of Hogwarts. A school for magically inclined children where he could reach his full potential. Though he would be surrounded by children with loving parents, children with friends and expectations, he accepted besides the fact.
Keeping his wants to himself and being a perfect school boy, he found himself able to exceed the abilities of even the third years, and most fourth. Magic was a natural ability that flowed through him, came quickly and stayed and grew stronger. Poor but brilliant, parent-less, but so brave, a school prefect, a model student. Many of the professors saw him as this through his years. However, Dumbledore was the exception. The professor was the only one that knew what Tom had previously done, the only one that could even guess as to his background. It was true, Tom didn’t necessarily like Albus, but that was fine. It was one professor out of so many that didn’t enjoy and love the poor orphan. He simply kept his head held high, but kept his voice low.
Slytherin house was perfect for Tom, a place where he could grow and influence others. It wasn’t long before he had many following him, many believing in what he told them. They were his friends, his good buddies, the ones he was always with. Or, so it appeared. They were nothing but pawns in his game, a game that would win him power beyond that of the strongest wizards, dead or alive. He cared very little for his group of thugs, and he used his control over their minds to make them do his darker deeds for him, keeping himself far from the circle of doubt among the teachers.
There came a time when he was researching his past, as he was directly descended from the great Salazar Slytherin himself. The Chamber of Secrets came up after some reading, and he found the entrance himself. Soon, the Basalisk was wreaking havoc in the school, attacking those muggle born mudbloods. His hate for them started at this time, growing with the years as he more so understood his ancient predecessors want to purge the school of their filth. The school, after so many attacks, was to be closed after a young girl named Myrtle was killed in the girls bathroom. However, not wanting to return to the orphanage, he framed a young Rubeus Hagrid whom had a thing for strange animals. It was a perfect plan, and yet again, Tom was nowhere near suspicion. After convincing the headmaster of Hagrid’s wrong doing, the half-giant was expelled, and Tom received an trophy for ‘Special Services to the School.’ He was able to stay at the school over the summer break, during that time being admitted into the forbidden section and discovering many powerful, dark spells. He would practice them, perfecting them. He also explored the forbidden forest, finding that many of the beasts there were not hard to fend off of even kill.
Dumbledore always seemed to be keeping a very close watch on him, but that hardly mattered. Tom never gave the old man a reason to question him, or to suspect anything beyond a few misdeeds that any Hogwarts student might do if the opportunity came up.
Researching into his heritage brought up the question of his father. Up until that point, he had thought of his parents both magically inclined, strong and powerful. However, with more research throughout the school and all the archives he could get a hold of, he found his father’s name was nowhere to be found. After his discovery, that his father was a dirty muggle and his mother the magical parent, he adopted the alias ‘Lord Voldemort’, hoping to avoid any contact with his muggle father.
Soon after, he discovered his uncle, who led him to his father. Infuriated, he killed his father and his grandparents with the killing curse. He was able to change Morfin’s memory to frame him for the murder. He was then sentenced to life in prison after freely admitting to killing them. Tom took the family signet ring from Morfin and wore it as a trophy, reminding him of the past he had wiped away, of the muggles he had killed.
Head boy, and stronger than even many of the professors in the school, his last year at Hogwarts was a great one. He discovered the way to create a Horcrux from Professor Slughorn. Already obsessed with living forever, he put his knowledge to work. Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem was his fist horcrux.
He wanted the opportunity to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts directly after he had graduated. However, the head master rejected his request, stating that Tom was too young. After turning down several offers to work within the ministry of magic, he ended up working at Borgin and Burkes. Many were disappointed in his choice, many more surprised. Such a young, powerful boy working at a dingy store? It was shame, to be sure. However, he had his reasons to work there. He soon befriended a very rich, elderly woman by the name of Hepzibah Smith. She soon showed him Salazar’s Locket and Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup. Tom killed the elderly witch and stole the items. He then vanished, disappearing without a trace. Implanted false information into memories was a skill he had easily obtained, and he used it now to cover his tracks. Murdering two more, he turned the two items into Horcruxes.
After he disappeared, he slipped further and further into the Dark Arts. His appearance, after killing and making Horcruxes, was distorted at this time. He freely went by Lord Voldemort. Again, he tried for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but was denied. His true purpose, to discover Hogwarts’ secrets and find more followers, would have to wait. He made sure any teacher who attempted to position he wanted would be there no longer than a year. His anger showed. He used his short visit in Hogwarts to hide the Diadem.
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and maybe my intentions have been misunderstood,
[/color][/font]and maybe my intentions have been misunderstood,
I KNOW YOU FEEL SO BEAUTIFULLY WRONGED[/color][/font]
some days i can't believe, others i'm one my knees.
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age: Almost 16
other characters: None. Voldemort is the only character ever that I can just write with.
secret phrase: bloody hell
Eyes blinked open, back ridged against the back of his chair, his hands curled around the arms of the chair, sickly long fingers tapping against the dark wood on occasion, announcing his annoyance with the situation. Outside, the wind howled, the moon dark. A long table, pleasantly blank except for an embroidered covering, Slytherin green. The room they were in was chilled, accommodating the people who were within the room. A meal was served, though the Lord did not partake, instead watching those around his table. He had not been back to his own body for very long, and he was still deciding whether his followers were loyal, or if they had abandoned him. He was sure that most of them had been off, living a happy life without him in their worlds. However, he was back now, and if they wished to rejoin him, he would accept them. If they refused, he would kill them and let the world know that those that defied him would end up in the same state, dead and left with no honor to their name.
His eyes watched them eat, all timid and nervous. He did not blame them, as Nagini was patrolling back and forth behind them, hissing and spitting at anyone that was too close. The Lord of Dark Magic watched, intent to look through the thoughts of anyone he wanted, while they helplessly sat, hoping nothing in their mind would betray them. However, the only one in his presence that hadn’t in some form betrayed him was Bellatrix, and he was sure she was his most loyal follower. He would acknowledge that, very soon.
Lord Voldemort stood, slowly, the chair effortless moving away behind him with a simple thought from his mind. It seemed that very quickly, no one was interested in their food any longer All eyes glanced up at him, though many heads were bowed a degree. As his eyes looked at each person, the eyes would drop. This gave him such joy, he could only express it with the quickly growing smirk on his deformed, pale face.
His voice, dark and slow, enforcing his terror, spoke then. “My followers, my dear dear Death Eaters,” he spoke, accent clear and quiet but enough to make spines tingle, enough to make some stop their breathing. “Lord Voldemort is very pleased to have you in his presence, though I am unsure if any of you should actually be here,” he finished, calm toned and with no hint of malice seeping into his voice- yet.
Moving slowly, he started pacing. Those he stood behind sat as straight as possible, trying to control their shaking, trying to seem calm and in control. However, the Dark Lord couldn’t have that. After all, much of his pleasure came from known that even his followers were afraid for their lives. After all, much of his control came from that knowledge. The knowledge that Voldemort could sneak into any home, could kill anyone, and the most frightening part? He could great you with a pleasantly evil smile the next day, knowing the message had been delivered, but the Dark Lord needed not mention the occurrences of a previous time.
“You are all so different, yet so very much like you were. So many weak and pathetic in your attempts to provide me with a new life. So many of you here only out of fear.” He took a few more steps, than stopped abruptly, his head tilting back, his throat releasing a somewhat muffle chuckle. “Do you not love your Lord Voldemort. Do not not seek to be here, only to serve . . .me?” he nearly whispered, watching as so many began to worry, began to tap their feet and twitch their hands, anything to distract their minds from their obvious betrayal. “It would seem,” he began pacing, soon standing directly behind Bellatrix, ”that our dear Bellatrix is the only one in our gathering today who hasn’t thought of defiling your Lord’s name.” He fingers clacked against the wood of her chair, his nails leaving dents, small but noticeable, in the shine of the chair. The witch turned and thanked him, calmly, quietly.
Of course Lucius had something to say. “My Lord, as we have mentioned, we were all unsure if Wormtail would follow through on his-“ He was cut off, his words falling short as he came to understand the look in his Lord’s eyes.
“My servant, Lucius, you have always been a strong Death Eater, always loyal. However, you among so many, have forgotten.” He turned his back to them, his hands held behind his back. “Lord Voldemort will never fall. He will always rise, and he will reign over this pathetic world,” he growled, his voice growling at this point. “Never forget that, any of you,” He turned, and smoothly strolled to his chair, where he took his seat. “That I am your master, and betrayal is no permitted within this snake’s den. Your actions will be thanked with death if any of you seek to over throw me.”
He glanced over them all again, so many faces and so much magical power under his reign. “Now, tell me, how is our Ministry of Magic these days?” he asked, his tone almost pleasant, his eyes reflecting none of the previous hatred. An evil sneer grinned back at those at the table, inflicting fear. Just as the Dark Lord would have it.
His eyes watched them eat, all timid and nervous. He did not blame them, as Nagini was patrolling back and forth behind them, hissing and spitting at anyone that was too close. The Lord of Dark Magic watched, intent to look through the thoughts of anyone he wanted, while they helplessly sat, hoping nothing in their mind would betray them. However, the only one in his presence that hadn’t in some form betrayed him was Bellatrix, and he was sure she was his most loyal follower. He would acknowledge that, very soon.
Lord Voldemort stood, slowly, the chair effortless moving away behind him with a simple thought from his mind. It seemed that very quickly, no one was interested in their food any longer All eyes glanced up at him, though many heads were bowed a degree. As his eyes looked at each person, the eyes would drop. This gave him such joy, he could only express it with the quickly growing smirk on his deformed, pale face.
His voice, dark and slow, enforcing his terror, spoke then. “My followers, my dear dear Death Eaters,” he spoke, accent clear and quiet but enough to make spines tingle, enough to make some stop their breathing. “Lord Voldemort is very pleased to have you in his presence, though I am unsure if any of you should actually be here,” he finished, calm toned and with no hint of malice seeping into his voice- yet.
Moving slowly, he started pacing. Those he stood behind sat as straight as possible, trying to control their shaking, trying to seem calm and in control. However, the Dark Lord couldn’t have that. After all, much of his pleasure came from known that even his followers were afraid for their lives. After all, much of his control came from that knowledge. The knowledge that Voldemort could sneak into any home, could kill anyone, and the most frightening part? He could great you with a pleasantly evil smile the next day, knowing the message had been delivered, but the Dark Lord needed not mention the occurrences of a previous time.
“You are all so different, yet so very much like you were. So many weak and pathetic in your attempts to provide me with a new life. So many of you here only out of fear.” He took a few more steps, than stopped abruptly, his head tilting back, his throat releasing a somewhat muffle chuckle. “Do you not love your Lord Voldemort. Do not not seek to be here, only to serve . . .me?” he nearly whispered, watching as so many began to worry, began to tap their feet and twitch their hands, anything to distract their minds from their obvious betrayal. “It would seem,” he began pacing, soon standing directly behind Bellatrix, ”that our dear Bellatrix is the only one in our gathering today who hasn’t thought of defiling your Lord’s name.” He fingers clacked against the wood of her chair, his nails leaving dents, small but noticeable, in the shine of the chair. The witch turned and thanked him, calmly, quietly.
Of course Lucius had something to say. “My Lord, as we have mentioned, we were all unsure if Wormtail would follow through on his-“ He was cut off, his words falling short as he came to understand the look in his Lord’s eyes.
“My servant, Lucius, you have always been a strong Death Eater, always loyal. However, you among so many, have forgotten.” He turned his back to them, his hands held behind his back. “Lord Voldemort will never fall. He will always rise, and he will reign over this pathetic world,” he growled, his voice growling at this point. “Never forget that, any of you,” He turned, and smoothly strolled to his chair, where he took his seat. “That I am your master, and betrayal is no permitted within this snake’s den. Your actions will be thanked with death if any of you seek to over throw me.”
He glanced over them all again, so many faces and so much magical power under his reign. “Now, tell me, how is our Ministry of Magic these days?” he asked, his tone almost pleasant, his eyes reflecting none of the previous hatred. An evil sneer grinned back at those at the table, inflicting fear. Just as the Dark Lord would have it.
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