Applicant: Vizier Prandine (Emily Rodda's 'Deltora Quest', saga)
((OOC: I've been unable to find a specific name for his headdress, as it has aspects of a Chaperon, yet is also similar to the Sultan's headwear in Disney's 'Aladdin'. So, for the purpose of this application and any role-play involving Prandine, I'll be referring to his headdress as a 'bourrelet' as it is the culturallyl evolved form of the Chaperon, and is the closest description I could find. P. S. Thaegan mun approved, as I am her.))
Prandine sniffed the air and pined for the sulphuric atmosphere of the Shadowlands. The wind picked up in the sorting room, carrying with it the scents of honeysuckle and fresh dew. It ruffled his long, bulky black robes and long greying hair. The nerve under his eye twitched, he scrunched his features into a scowl. 'Putrid,' he muttered. He glanced around looking for the opened window, and was buffeted by another sweet scented gale. His bony hand clamped down on his bejewelled bourrelet, as the wind wrestled with it. He caught sight of the window and rushed it, the hem of his robes billowed behind him. As he reached for the window another gale got caught within his floor length sleeves, in affect, disorientating him long enough for his hand to leave the bourrelet. As it blew off, it tumbled across the flagstones. Prandine grumbled, clasping the iron hatch of the window he slammed it shut, the pane rattling. Prandine picked up his hat and dusted it, placing it back on his head as if it were a crown. When he felt comfortable that his headdress was on properly, he found himself staring at a cedar desk. It was tucked away in the corner of the stone room, with a solely piece of parchment on its surface, and beside it; an intricate quill with a brass tip and fluorescent green and blue feathered tail. Intrigued, if not slightly perturbed by the joy in the room and the avarice in his heart, he sat himself before the parchment and read its proposal.
Prandine read the parchment's header out loud after a moment, as to understand it. 'Hogwarts Enrolment Application.' It wasn't until his spoken word that the quill reacted in anyway. Its fluorescent feathered tail twitched and moved like a cat's, once it took a moment to wake up, Prandine had thought he'd hallucinated the twitch of the quill's feather. But then the quill stood to attention on its brass point, flicking its feathered tail and turning on its point. Prandine stared. The quill took to hovering above the application and with three hostile slashes it underlined a fine noted, located in the side-margined that he had over-looked. It detailed that the quill would reiterate spoken word. With such knowledge in his slimy mind, he smirked violently. Prandine continued in ascertaining the parchment, and equally, his reason for being here.
State your full name.
'Vizier Prandine, Chief Adviser to the King of Del, and Loyal Servant to the Shadow Lord.' Granted all that was needed was Prandine, he felt the need to express the titles, doctrines and loyalties, as limited as they were. He smiled proudly.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Prandine went silent, which was a phenomenon in and of itself. The question was fairly ridiculous, undoubtedly, but it was a question that was a part of what seemed to be a legally incepted document. That is, as close to looking like one that he had come across. But to a ridiculous question, came a simple answer. 'I don't know.'
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
Prandine's thin lips shaped themselves into a smirk. Oh, he knew killing. He had killed Prince Endon's father and mother, a quick feat, but minuscule in the eyes of many other Shadow Lord followers. Most found his use of a poison dagger rather pathetic and something akin to a woman's perogative. Poison's were a woman's forte, brute and calculated violance was man's designated existence. Prandine sat up even straighter than before, pride beamed in his golden eyes as he said, 'Whom ever the Shadow Lord wishes dead, is whom shall feed the worms, I say. Should these barbarians known as Barney and Carrottop prove insolent to His Lordships endeavours, I shall bring them down with an iron fist!' To strengthen the promise, he smashed his fist into his palm, smirking wildly.
3. What time is it where you are?
Prandine shifted, he had lost himself to the second question. From talking of slaughter to the subtle and out-of-place question that was time, made him slightly baffled. 'Time?' he queried. 'Time is but a chessboard, and the pawns move as designated by those of higher distinction. It seems to be midday here, but I can tell you that the Shadow Lord is not encumbered by the ancient grips of Father Time, his hand will bring the end of Deltora! He waits for no man, woman or beastly child. Certainly not the mundane thought of time.'
4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.
Prandine was yet again force into baffled silence. If this parchment's purpose was to 'Get to Know', he found this question at the pinnacle of idiocy. There seemed no use for this question amongst the few he had already answered and explained. So, it warranted only one answer. 'I have no understanding of this question or the persons it theorises, so I will not and shall not answer it.'
5. If you are pushing to be in:
A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
Prandine hadn't had much experience with bar's, least of all the subtle art of bar-tending. His interest was less than mute. But he understood the hypothetical leanings of the question, and answered thus, 'The Shadow Prospect.'
B. Gryffindor - Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
Prandine's eyebrow twitched, this question brought up the same feelings as the one involving sexual harassment, and a man named Dumbledore. He was starting to get irritated; sex seemed an important topic in this, Hogwarts. He let out an annoyed sigh. 'I don't know and don't pertain to care. Such logics are beyond my interest. Marriage is an archaic institution designed to bring solace to the miserable and the good.'
C. Ravenclaw - You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.
Prandine chuckled, a low and wizened sound that was only accentuated for its cruelty in tone. 'I understand completely, the filthy commoners of Del wrote dailt to the King for answers and guidance. It was pitiful, and did I let the King read them? I think not! I threw them on the fire and delighted myself in an aged brandy. I suggest that you do likewise, it's only inconsequential paperwork.' he smirked on the sly.
D. Hufflepuff - Prove you are not useless.
He gave thought to His Lordship's followers, the Grey Guards. Their idle gossip and jealous prattle of how he was not only the Shadow Lord's sidekick, if not lower; a pet, but also a lackey of the past and previous King's of Del. He was certainly not, he was much more, and the Shadow Lord saw his usefulness. It made him beam, the dark marks under his eyes deepened. Prandine didn't think of himself as someone who needed to prove his usefulness, he was the Shadow Lords go to man, confidante and ally. He was always taken seriously. Prandine smirked, but after a while of thinking the smirk lessened, loosening to a smile and then putrefying into a lame grimace. He grunted gruffly, as if something was caught in his throat. No, he had resilience. He was useful, yes. 'I'm useful and I don't need to prove it.' He nodded as if it were the full stop to a seven paged ledger detailing his usefulness.
6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.
Prandine eyed the sixth and final question for this tangent inspired application. A bribe? With all the facades of being a respectable establishment, this Hogwarts was just as underhanded as the values encompassing the Shadow Lord. When it came to it however, he wasn't sure what to put up for a bribe. First he rose and patted down his robes, trying to feel out any bumps or groves that might be objects to pawn off. After some thinking and patting, he dug into his deep pockets; from one he pulled out a dagger. As the light flinted off the steel, it showcased a yellowed aura to the blade. He smirked cruelly. Prandine placed it on the desktop and smirked. He flattened out his impressive robes and watched as the quill settled back into its ink well. He waited for the next surprise this Hogwarts had in offer.
"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
One day, marmalade the Shadow Lord will rule the world Deltora. Prandine, Chief Adviser."
Prandine sniffed the air and pined for the sulphuric atmosphere of the Shadowlands. The wind picked up in the sorting room, carrying with it the scents of honeysuckle and fresh dew. It ruffled his long, bulky black robes and long greying hair. The nerve under his eye twitched, he scrunched his features into a scowl. 'Putrid,' he muttered. He glanced around looking for the opened window, and was buffeted by another sweet scented gale. His bony hand clamped down on his bejewelled bourrelet, as the wind wrestled with it. He caught sight of the window and rushed it, the hem of his robes billowed behind him. As he reached for the window another gale got caught within his floor length sleeves, in affect, disorientating him long enough for his hand to leave the bourrelet. As it blew off, it tumbled across the flagstones. Prandine grumbled, clasping the iron hatch of the window he slammed it shut, the pane rattling. Prandine picked up his hat and dusted it, placing it back on his head as if it were a crown. When he felt comfortable that his headdress was on properly, he found himself staring at a cedar desk. It was tucked away in the corner of the stone room, with a solely piece of parchment on its surface, and beside it; an intricate quill with a brass tip and fluorescent green and blue feathered tail. Intrigued, if not slightly perturbed by the joy in the room and the avarice in his heart, he sat himself before the parchment and read its proposal.
Prandine read the parchment's header out loud after a moment, as to understand it. 'Hogwarts Enrolment Application.' It wasn't until his spoken word that the quill reacted in anyway. Its fluorescent feathered tail twitched and moved like a cat's, once it took a moment to wake up, Prandine had thought he'd hallucinated the twitch of the quill's feather. But then the quill stood to attention on its brass point, flicking its feathered tail and turning on its point. Prandine stared. The quill took to hovering above the application and with three hostile slashes it underlined a fine noted, located in the side-margined that he had over-looked. It detailed that the quill would reiterate spoken word. With such knowledge in his slimy mind, he smirked violently. Prandine continued in ascertaining the parchment, and equally, his reason for being here.
State your full name.
'Vizier Prandine, Chief Adviser to the King of Del, and Loyal Servant to the Shadow Lord.' Granted all that was needed was Prandine, he felt the need to express the titles, doctrines and loyalties, as limited as they were. He smiled proudly.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Prandine went silent, which was a phenomenon in and of itself. The question was fairly ridiculous, undoubtedly, but it was a question that was a part of what seemed to be a legally incepted document. That is, as close to looking like one that he had come across. But to a ridiculous question, came a simple answer. 'I don't know.'
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
Prandine's thin lips shaped themselves into a smirk. Oh, he knew killing. He had killed Prince Endon's father and mother, a quick feat, but minuscule in the eyes of many other Shadow Lord followers. Most found his use of a poison dagger rather pathetic and something akin to a woman's perogative. Poison's were a woman's forte, brute and calculated violance was man's designated existence. Prandine sat up even straighter than before, pride beamed in his golden eyes as he said, 'Whom ever the Shadow Lord wishes dead, is whom shall feed the worms, I say. Should these barbarians known as Barney and Carrottop prove insolent to His Lordships endeavours, I shall bring them down with an iron fist!' To strengthen the promise, he smashed his fist into his palm, smirking wildly.
3. What time is it where you are?
Prandine shifted, he had lost himself to the second question. From talking of slaughter to the subtle and out-of-place question that was time, made him slightly baffled. 'Time?' he queried. 'Time is but a chessboard, and the pawns move as designated by those of higher distinction. It seems to be midday here, but I can tell you that the Shadow Lord is not encumbered by the ancient grips of Father Time, his hand will bring the end of Deltora! He waits for no man, woman or beastly child. Certainly not the mundane thought of time.'
4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.
Prandine was yet again force into baffled silence. If this parchment's purpose was to 'Get to Know', he found this question at the pinnacle of idiocy. There seemed no use for this question amongst the few he had already answered and explained. So, it warranted only one answer. 'I have no understanding of this question or the persons it theorises, so I will not and shall not answer it.'
5. If you are pushing to be in:
A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
Prandine hadn't had much experience with bar's, least of all the subtle art of bar-tending. His interest was less than mute. But he understood the hypothetical leanings of the question, and answered thus, 'The Shadow Prospect.'
B. Gryffindor - Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
Prandine's eyebrow twitched, this question brought up the same feelings as the one involving sexual harassment, and a man named Dumbledore. He was starting to get irritated; sex seemed an important topic in this, Hogwarts. He let out an annoyed sigh. 'I don't know and don't pertain to care. Such logics are beyond my interest. Marriage is an archaic institution designed to bring solace to the miserable and the good.'
C. Ravenclaw - You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.
Prandine chuckled, a low and wizened sound that was only accentuated for its cruelty in tone. 'I understand completely, the filthy commoners of Del wrote dailt to the King for answers and guidance. It was pitiful, and did I let the King read them? I think not! I threw them on the fire and delighted myself in an aged brandy. I suggest that you do likewise, it's only inconsequential paperwork.' he smirked on the sly.
D. Hufflepuff - Prove you are not useless.
He gave thought to His Lordship's followers, the Grey Guards. Their idle gossip and jealous prattle of how he was not only the Shadow Lord's sidekick, if not lower; a pet, but also a lackey of the past and previous King's of Del. He was certainly not, he was much more, and the Shadow Lord saw his usefulness. It made him beam, the dark marks under his eyes deepened. Prandine didn't think of himself as someone who needed to prove his usefulness, he was the Shadow Lords go to man, confidante and ally. He was always taken seriously. Prandine smirked, but after a while of thinking the smirk lessened, loosening to a smile and then putrefying into a lame grimace. He grunted gruffly, as if something was caught in his throat. No, he had resilience. He was useful, yes. 'I'm useful and I don't need to prove it.' He nodded as if it were the full stop to a seven paged ledger detailing his usefulness.
6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.
Prandine eyed the sixth and final question for this tangent inspired application. A bribe? With all the facades of being a respectable establishment, this Hogwarts was just as underhanded as the values encompassing the Shadow Lord. When it came to it however, he wasn't sure what to put up for a bribe. First he rose and patted down his robes, trying to feel out any bumps or groves that might be objects to pawn off. After some thinking and patting, he dug into his deep pockets; from one he pulled out a dagger. As the light flinted off the steel, it showcased a yellowed aura to the blade. He smirked cruelly. Prandine placed it on the desktop and smirked. He flattened out his impressive robes and watched as the quill settled back into its ink well. He waited for the next surprise this Hogwarts had in offer.
"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Prandine, Chief Adviser.
One day, marmalade the Shadow Lord will rule the world Deltora. Prandine, Chief Adviser."