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Post by Lord Voldemort on Jan 23, 2018 18:30:30 GMT
Wanted: Death Eater spies in the Ministry
The Ministry of Magic stands in the way of progressive movements that empower wizards and witches all across Britain to not simply cower in the face of muggles, but to cast the lesser beings into our shadows. The time has come for a change in power.
Lord Voldemort requires spies within the Ministry, of more influential status than that of Aurelius Avery in the Department of Magical Transportation. I seek wizards and witches in key positions to help move the nation forward and thrust the wizarding community into the light of day. My minions should be positioned in the following departments, preferably as seasoned staff, but trainees and newcomers will do nicely in a pinch:
✮ Minister and/or Support Staff ✮
Minister for Magic
Advisor to the Minister
Undersecretary to the Minister
Junior Assistant to the Minister
✮ Magical Law Enforcement Departments ✮
Aurors
MLE Officers
Wizengamot Members
✮ Department of Mysteries ✮
Unspeakables
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Jan 22, 2018 6:25:16 GMT
The clicking of heels on the hardwood floors echoed down the hall, signaling the arrival of his first guest. There was no surprise on Lord Voldemort’s expression as the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange entered. She was regularly the first to arrive and always the most eager. She was useful in many way. Cold, chiseled features remained still as black-haired beauty approached and knelt before him. Her face was hidden but he need not see it to know the admiration she felt at being in his presence. A silent nod of his head was the only response of recognition she received before his attention turned to the next arrival.
The room steadily filled with his most trusted. Their faces were all hidden behind masks and yet Lord Voldemort could identify each one. The markings on their masks were individual, their frames all different, but what stood out the most was easily their minds. Some more open to him than others, some willingly and some ignorantly. His dark eyes passed over each of them and he knew what their thoughts were of, what their desires, passions, and memories expressed. He could sense the urgency in a few, boredom is smaller number still, and excitement in most. There was much excitement to be had and a gracious ruler rarely left his subjects in the dark for too long. Matchlight was all that these ones would need to entice them. They were strong and pure, not only of blood but of heart as well. His followers. His children. His Death Eaters.
Like a shadow on a wall, Lord Voldemort rose from his seat and stepped toward the circle of masked wizards and witches. He passed in front of one of the large windows, the rays of cold, winter light casting a heavenly glow around his silhouette. “My friends,” he spoke with a silky tongue that commanded his servants to attend to his will. “By now you have surely heard about the demise of the traitorous Netherly family.” Black eyes scanned the masked faces as he walked slowly past each of his Death Eaters. Coming to a halt in front of one of the taller framed wizards, Lord Voldemort stared into the eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange. He was an arrogant man, cocksure and headstrong. His mind was not as easily viewed as that of his wife, though Bellatrix knowingly gave her thoughts up to him whenever she was in his presence.
“Thanks can be given to our Mister Lestrange,” though he left no room for any applause or words of congratulation to be given as his black cloak swept across the floor in the opposite direction and his words filled the ballroom once more. “Let this be a lesson to all that dare to stand against us. Righteousness will out. The powerful will rise. And we shall see the glory of our triumphs as we squash the muggle filth under our boot.”
Robes billowed in the candlelight as Voldemort turned his back upon his followers, allowing his words to sink in. Taking his seat upon the dais once more, he surveyed his minions, a look akin to pride on his face. Clouds passed in front of the sun, casting the snow-covered gardens and the ballroom itself into darkness. The flames from the hearth flickered, casting strange shadows across the floor as the circle of robed witches and wizards stood before their lord.
“Strength lies not in defense but in attack. The Order is easily weakened, as we have proven time and again.” The Netherlys were not the first of Dumbledore’s henchmen to eradicated and they would not be the last. “We must now turn our attentions to the Ministry and to infiltration.” There were some in his army that were already associated with the Ministry of Magic in some way but Voldemort needed something more substantial than Portkeys and Quidditch Matches. He needed connections with the law enforcement agencies, the politicians, and the wizengamot. He needed someone here to bring him a useful connection that he could exploit.
Summoned: @bellal Finley Charles Avery Rodolphus Adalrich Lestrange Severus Theodisius Snape Vienna Phoebe Rosier etc. Notes: |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Jan 19, 2018 1:48:03 GMT
congratulations Your efforts have pleased me, Ms Rosier.
You have proven yourself worthy of the mark you now bear upon your left forearm.
It is a great honour bestowed to only a few select wizards and witches.
When summoned by the Dark Mark you will report immediately to me.
For now, you can keep abreast of the dealings of the Death Eaters on our plotting board HERE |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Jan 16, 2018 19:37:11 GMT
A frigid wind blew through the trees and pounded against the old glass panes of the window, causing an eerie howl to fill the hallway of the old Victorian mansion. It was only midday, but the grey skies above were covered by thick, dark clouds the blocked out the sun and cast a dreary darkness over the building and surrounding land. The property, which belonged to an elderly man whose body had not yet decomposed under the frozen floorboards of the garden shed some distance out from the main house, had, at one point, been neglected and in disrepair, both inside and out. The new occupant was seeing to it that it was once again fit for royalty.
The exterior of the aging mansion was currently blanketed in a powdery white snow, the walk from the rarely used road having been shoveled clear just this morning by a barrel-chested man with a bald head and a peaceful, distant look in his eye. The entire property, extending out into the wooded area miles behind the mansion, was secured with a series of powerful wards that kept nosy townsfolk from venturing toward house. It was, of course, a necessity, as anyone who approached without a marked escort would eventually be found slumped onto the ground where they stood, at the perimeter of the property, their insides boiled and spilling out of every orifice.
Inside the large, four story building the renovations had already begun. Several rooms were suitable for visiting guests, fitted with heavy locks and anti-disapparition charms that ensured no one would be departing without a proper send off. A small team of house elves worked tirelessly to clean and repair the formal dining room, office, and ballroom. The kitchens prepared a fine feast every evening, sending the food to whichever location their master summoned them to, without anyone ever spotting the dirty rags or hearing the whimpering squeak of an elf.
Black robes bellowed behind him as he moved purposefully through the corridor. The sound of his footsteps soaked into the walls and disappeared into a soft whisper as he turned sharply and continued on toward the grand ballroom at the end of the East wing. Gold trimmed double doors opened for him as he approached, enchanted to respect only one man, the new lord of this manor; Lord Voldemort. The candles burst to life as he entered the room, filling the space with a quivering light. A fire roared to life in the hearth, illuminating one side of the room more than the other. The dais against the far wall was swathed in near darkness, the light from the nearby flames causing the gold filigree on the lavish chair set in the center of the dais to shimmer. It was a throne fit for a ruler and Voldemort prided himself on that title.
His most loyal had been summoned, the burning on their left forearm signaling their immediate presence was required and tardiness would not be well received. There was business to address this day; meaningless praise to be given and news to be shared. Their foes were falling but Lord Voldemort was not short on enemies, the most dangerous being that crazed man with the pet phoenix. Plans were in motion, but to underestimate Albus Dumbledore at this point would be a foolish error, one which Voldemort would not be making.
Summoned: @bellal Finley Charles Avery Rodolphus Adalrich Lestrange Severus Theodisius Snape Vienna Phoebe Rosier etc. Notes: Do not keep your master waiting |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Jan 13, 2018 3:59:56 GMT
congratulations Your efforts have pleased me, Mrs Lestrange.
You have proven yourself worthy of the mark you now bear upon your left forearm.
It is a great honour bestowed to only a few select wizards and witches.
When summoned by the Dark Mark you will report immediately to me.
For now, you can keep abreast of the dealings of the Death Eaters on our plotting board HERE |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Dec 30, 2017 2:09:45 GMT
congratulations Your efforts have pleased me, Mr Lestrange.
You have proven yourself worthy of the mark you now bear upon your left forearm.
It is a great honour bestowed to only a few select wizards and witches.
When summoned by the Dark Mark you will report immediately to me.
For now, you can keep abreast of the dealings of the Death Eaters on our plotting board HERE |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Dec 30, 2017 2:08:20 GMT
congratulations Your efforts have pleased me, Mr Snape.
You have proven yourself worthy of the mark you now bear upon your left forearm.
It is a great honour bestowed to only a few select wizards and witches.
When summoned by the Dark Mark you will report immediately to me.
For now, you can keep abreast of the dealings of the Death Eaters on our plotting board HERE |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Dec 30, 2017 2:06:22 GMT
congratulations Your efforts have pleased me, Mr Avery.
You have proven yourself worthy of the mark you now bear upon your left forearm.
It is a great honour bestowed to only a few select wizards and witches.
When summoned by the Dark Mark you will report immediately to me.
For now, you can keep abreast of the dealings of the Death Eaters on our plotting board HERE |
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Post by Lord Voldemort on Dec 18, 2017 2:29:48 GMT
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31 December, 1926 - 51 years 13½", Yew, phoenix feather core |
PERSONALITY Boggart: His own corpse
Patronus: Riddle cannot produce a patronus as he has no happy memories strong enough to conjure one, but if he could it would be that of a snake
Mirror of Erised: Himself, all powerful, and immortal
Tom Riddle is the devil in disguise and some may even say he is the most dangerous dark wizard of all time. These would be understatements. Riddle is highly intelligent and excessively charismatic. He has an uncanny ability to woo the masses and convince them to follow him blindly into battle. Riddle is keenly aware of how to manipulate others into doing his bidding and does so without hesitation or remorse. He seeks out only the most useful of wizards and witches to further his agenda, but understands that even the meek can be useful in their own way (mostly as pawns and cannon fodder). Riddle has promised his followers a better life, a greater UK that is free of muggle filth where they can live with their families secure in the knowledge that they are safe from an invasion of non-magical persons.
Riddle has no tolerance for anything he deems to beneath him: love, kindness, warmth – he considers these all to be distractions and weaknesses. However, Riddle understands that most people succumb to these distractions, even the most resilient, and he has no problem twisting those strings to his advantage. He preys on the fears and insecurities of the general public and uses that fear to rise to power.
HISTORY
Mother: Merope Gaunt, 19*, Slytherin, Pure Blood
Father: Tom Riddle, 37*, Muggle
Siblings: none
Partners: none
Others: his familiar, Nagini
Tom Riddle was born at an orphanage in London and was left to be raised by strangers when his mother died shortly after giving birth to him. He spent the first decade of his life creating chaos without truly understanding why he could make people and animals bend to his will. His ignorance in this area did not hinder him in learning to control his abilities and manipulate others at the orphanage. Albus Dumbledore sought him out when he was eleven and explained the reason for his mysterious powers; he was a wizard.
It was evident to Dumbledore that Riddle was abusing his magical abilities and warned the boy that such abuses would not be tolerated at Hogwarts or by the Ministry of Magic. This warning was enough to make Riddle more guarded, and only encouraged his already preternatural ability to manipulate others. Riddle was brought to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he excelled in his studies. Over his years at Hogwarts, Riddle became a Prefect and Head Boy. He deceived most of the school staff into believing that he was a model student and a brave lad, despite his more than modest upbringing. The only member of the staff that remained wary of Riddle was Dumbledore, though there were no incidents that could be traced back to Riddle and thus no newer reasons for Dumbledore to think poorly of Riddly, aside from what he experienced during their first meeting.
Riddle had become obsessed with discovering his father, and during his research he uncovered what he determined to be the ugly truth; his father was a muggle. His efforts then focused on learning about his mother and he soon discovered that his mother, a pureblood witch, was a decedent of Salazar Slytherin. He sought out his remaining maternal family, finding his uncle and learning that his father and paternal grandparents were still alive. In a rage, Riddle murdered his father and grandparents using the Killing Curse and framed his maternal uncle, altering the man’s memories to believe that he had killed the Riddles. Now the only remaining heir of Slytherin, Riddle stole his uncle’s family signet ring as a trophy.
It was also around this time that Riddle unearthed the Chamber of Secrets and used his Parseltongue abilities to tame the basilisk that lived in the underground chamber. Using the basilisk and the chamber, Riddle attempted to purge the school of what he considered filth; muggleborn wizards and witches. Several students were injured and one killed, before Riddle found out that the school was to be closed because of the attacks. In an effort to avoid going back to the orphanage where he was raised, Riddle framed another student for opening the chamber of secrets and unleashing a terrible monster; Rubeus Hagrid and his pet Aragog. In return for apprehending the villainous Hagrid, Riddle was praised and given a trophy. Suspicious of his motives and actions, Dumbledore kept closer watch on Riddle who was not able to reopen the chamber while a student at Hogwarts.
During his time at Hogwarts, Riddle was recruited to join Professor Slughorn’s coveted “Slug Club” where Riddle manipulated the man into describing the process for creating a horcrux. He used this information to create a diary, his first horcrux, in the hopes of once again opening the Chamber of Secrets and cleansing the school.
Riddle used his contacts in the Slug Club to start his army, known at the time as the Knights of Walpurgis. As Riddle grew in power, and his knights grew in infamy, a rumor began to grow among the wizarding community. The Knights of Walpurgis slaughtered hundreds upon hundreds of muggles, muggleborns, and muggle sympathizers, leaving nothing in their wake. It was said that the knights were something akin to Dementors, but where the Dementors would feed on souls, the Knights of Walpurgis fed on death itself, earning them the more commonly used moniker; the Death Eaters. OOC Play By: Ralph Fiennes Your Alias: Voldemort Pronouns: Him/he Age: immortal Other Characters: there may be others, but I am one of a kind Where did you find us: in the place you least expected |
created by Lilith of Adoxography
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