Absit Omen RPG

Knowing full well the gesture would be no more appreciated then the elbow in the side, the specter patted Cohen on the back and drifted back to stare greedily at the disrobed witch sprawled across the magazine.  Ahh.  The pleasures of the flesh.  So close and yet so very, very far away.  He was forever relinquished to the sidelines of what, at best, had become a spectator sport. 

“Back in your day?  What did you risk it for, Mannie? To see a lady’s ankles?  No! Weren’t we being hunted back then?”

Manfred looked up from the magazine and narrowed his eyes at Nicola.  “I risked it so we wouldn't be ashamed for being proud of our rightful wizarding heritage.  I risked it so we wouldn't have to hide in shadows.  I risked it for all of us and I gave thirty years of my life to that hell hole for it.”  What?  She’d killed a person or two and spent a few months in a dementor-less Azkaban?   

"Just because he puts up with your condescending -" 

Mannie met Nicola's grin with a smirk and he sat up a little straighter as the witch moved around the bar.  Merlin how he would love some noise.  Mayhem.  A parade.  Something to break up the monotony.  He'd come close to drifting to the nearest muggle village and terrorizing some kids in the beds before he remembered with the Ministry Spirit division did to naughty little specters. 

He could die of boredom, if he wasn't already dead. 

Without changing posture, Mannie drifted sideways and reached an elbow out to 'nudge' Aviad.  "What would it take to get you to turn the page?" Mannie asked, tilting his chin back towards the magazine. 

"The little --what do you call them?"

"Toothpicks." 

"They fly and buzz." 

"Flies"

"They make noise."

"Birds."

"And when they do..." 

"Buzzards."

Mannie drifted back to his own seat and nodded as Aviad spoke.  "Back in our day, we believed in something.  We had something concrete and undeniable that motivated us.  We had something valuable enough to motivate us to risk it all for: our lives, our freedoms, our families." 

Hovering in a crouched, seated position a few inches above one of the bar stools, Manfred Ashford cast a sideward glance at Cohen and grunted loudly when the younger, breathing wizard kicked at the skeletal dog.  Without elaborating, Manfred turned back to the magazine laying flat on the bar top and yawned, just for the show.  But, Randall's arrival was certain to be a greater source of entertainment then the page that Vixen Veela had been open to for over 20 minutes.  She brought her own brand of drama to the Black Chimaera and it was just what a bored ghost needed. 

Mannie swiveled towards the pair, without budging from his crouched position.  His eyes widened, eagerly, as Randall whispered into Cohen's ear but the eager merriment faded into irritation when Cohen kicked at the skeletal dog, again.  Mannie grunted, again.  "Leave Rosie alone.  Liver."  The dead had to stick together, after all. 

"There's a solution to too quiet," Mannie offered, his eyes shifting from the looks Randall was tossing Tawse and back.  He knew Cohen was speaking in broader terms, but broader terms weren't a solution to his current boredom.  "Make some noise.  You know you want to." 

"What are ye?  A helpless muggle lass?"

Chin as scraggly and unshaven as the day he'd died, Manfred slouched with his back against the bar, hovering an inch above the barstool.  The latest edition of Veela Vixen lay open on the table, the spoils the newest gullible patron who believed supplying an issue of the busty adult witch's magazine was a legitimate condition of admittance to the Black Chimaera. 

Distracted by Cohen's attempt to assemble the dog skeleton, Manfred Ashfort abandoned the magazine in favor of providing a critique of the man's endeavor from the sidelines. 

"Just- have you- it's a dog."  A dead dog, but a dog none-the-less.  "How hard can it be?  Just-"  Manfred reached for the bowl of bar snacks on the table but grunted when his hand passed straight through the food, bowl and bar top.  "You put the head on last."  He threw his hands up in exacerbated impatience and floated in a swivel-like fashion to face the magazine, again. 

"You look like a toothless flobberworm trying to swaddle a pixie."  The former Death Eater grumbled. 

January 27th

There was no question.  When compared to one's former living state, there were more disadvantages to being a ghost than there were advantages.  The memories of roasts and cakes and perfume had not faded much from the ex-Azzie's mind.  Days were long and boring, since only the mind (and not the body) could truly be occupied.  For one who was never a very cerebral bloke in life, such an existence was extremely tedious. 

But, there was the occasional silver lining.  Take harassing stinking muggles, for instance.  The wretched little muggles couldn't see nor hear him as a ghost but even they could feel him.  Whenever Manfred Ashford found himself floating through the muggle streets of London, he found a rare source of amusement from gliding through as many unsuspecting muggles as possible.  The flightier and more superstitious, the better.  As long as no one from the Ministry's Spirit Division was about, Manfred could haunt muggles to his poor, translucent heart's content.  The last girl must have even been one of those annoying muggle believers, as well.  Dressed in skimpy black leather with lots of shiny metals stubs and posts, she'd instantly turned and flashed a photo on those tiny squawking boxes muggles carried with them everywhere.  Just as she started gabbing on about something abnormal on the photo, Manfred looked up to find he'd reached the dirty, grimy windows of the King's Inn. 

After a final, parting leer, Manfred drifted through the Inn walls and hovered in a slumped seated position in a couch opposite this Cohen fellow in the not-so-noble darkened hotel lounge.  Mannie gave the man's lunch and beer wistful, forlorn consideration before casting a glance around the room.  Being mid-afternoon, the lounge was near abandoned.  The old man in the corner seemed too drunk to be aware of his surroundings. 

"I'm not dancin'" Manfred said.  Of course, there was little chance the man was aware of the humor Cinaed had found in equating Mannie to a singing, dancing telegram.  "He wants to know who you're workin' for.  And, how long."  Of course, Cinaed's response had been more an idle curiosity than a demand for further information.  But, Mannie had been paid for delivering messages, not exercising tact. 

"Man's dead bored.  Tired of hiding out in kitschy old lady houses."  Again, not exactly Cinaed's words.  "He'll meet you for beer if you'll agree to additional terms.  Along with the magazine, you agree to come by and open the pub's windows for a week."  Cinaed was entirely unaware of the current terms.  "The place gets stuffy." 

Oh oh oh!  *raises hand excitedly*

That's about all the excitement you'll get out of Mannie. 

But, anyhoo, the dates actually work out perfectly for this!  Manfred was a Death Eater during the first war and was sent to Azkaban in 1978.  I actually have in his history that he was arrested while casting the Dark Mark over a ministry official's home - that could have been sometime after Geoffrey's mother's death.  He was sentenced to 30 years in Azkaban but was released a couple years early - shortly after Cinaed.  He was killed this past Christmas by one of Geoffrey's students so there's that bit of plotting, too.  Mannie's now a potentially permanent resident at the Black Chimaera in Knockturn as a ghost. 

So - it definitely works out and I'm all for it if it works with what you're thinking.

Ooo - hey hey!  Mai here!

We've already chatted some about Cinaed and I'm still a go with that.  But, it also did occur to me that I should toss out Mannie here as a potential plot-wither.  Mannie had been a Death Eater early on so would have known the Lestranges.  He was arrested and sent to Azkaban during Voldemort's first rise to power but hadn't been high ranking enough to be amongst the ones that were released/rescued by LV during POA.  He wasn't released until a couple of years ago but was killed when Kronos imperiosed him to kill Sasha's parents.  So, he's now a cranky old ghost who lingers around the Black Chimaera. 

Chris, my WBA-Auror-WBA is also an option.  He now manages the Chimaera for Cinaed.  Both of these two are my horribly neglected characters and are open for plotting!

For several silent moments, Manfred Ashfort stared at the pages of the magazine.  He'd never been a particularly intelligent man - what intellectual prowess he might have possessed in his youth had been left as pale and atrophied as his physical body by his two and a half decades in Azkaban.  It just took the short, stocky man a few extra moments to process complex concepts. 

And, few concepts were harder to wrap ones brain around than visualizing Liadan o Morain holding a conversation with Cinaed Tawse about his preferences in Veela Vixen models.  When it finally sunk in, Manfred laughed a deep, grizzled laugh, shaking his head as Liadan flipped the pages for him.  It was, quite possibly, the first time he'd laughed since he'd died.  And, probably for several months before.  Given the selections, her conversations had been remarkably thorough. 

"Ye gotta be effing kidding me," he said again.  Less because he didn't believe her and more because of the sheer incredulity of it.  "Shame ye couldn't get one o' me posing," he offered after giving his own picture a second look.  "I look so out of place." 

He chortled, again, when Liadan insisted Christian wasn't her boyfriend.  "Well, if ye insist on him not bein' yer boyfriend than he probably does need this kind of magazine," Mannie offered with a half grumble that might have resembled a laugh.  "Poor bastard's pathetic as a monk.  Swears he won't bag nobody else.  Sorry ol' cad.  But, whatever ye say." 

Dismissively, he shook his head before leaning a translucent elbow against the bar.  "Not bad.  Not bad.  I approve.  I'm sure it'll keep me well occupied for the next hundred years."  Hopefully, the pub would stay open that long.  Otherwise, he'd have to look elsewhere for a page turner.

Mannie was familiar enough with Chris' flame - or whatever they considered themselves.  Mannie never really worried himself with the labels of romantic affairs.  She wasn't representative of the pub's normal tenant but that never seemed deter her from traipsing into the place.  While it would be a stretch to say they were 'friends' of any sort, Mannie knew the woman well enough to know the magazine she pulled from the paper bag was not her usual reading material of choice.  Actually, to see her carrying it was somewhat amusing.

"It's April's issue."

"And, it's March."  What was she getting at?  "Sure not last April's.  I remember that one.  The center fold was nice."  She flipped the magazine open and Mannie floated a little closer to peer down at the page.  "That's me," he stated, needlessly.  He suspected Liadan knew as much.  He stared at the solid face in the picture.  It, obviously had been from before his death. 

He looked up from the page and watched Liadan a moment before laughing brightly.  The image that explanation brought to mind was something else!  "You," Manfred managed around a laugh.  "You actually asked around 'bout my Vixen preferences.  Take pictures of it?  Didn't ask Cinny, did ye?" he barked, again, perhaps a little too eagerly.  What he would have given to see this woman asking those questions. 

"The whole issue?"  He hovered a little closer to Liadan to get a better view of the list of 'articles.'  "Your boyfriend seen it, yet?" he asked with a chortle. 

Two and a half months had elapsed since Manfred Ashford had 'woken up' to find himself dead.  It had been a rather startling realization.  All he could remember was a flash of light.  Then nothing.  Then 'awakening' to find himself staring down at his tattered frame in some strange, unfamiliar hallway, leaning up against some door.  How he'd gotten there or where he'd even been - he hadn't had a clue.  He'd wandered ... or floated ... aimlessly for several weeks until he'd finally found his way back to the shuttered and abandoned Black Chimaera.  He'd simply drifted through the Ministry's barricades and flopped on ... or, rather, just above ... his bed.  From about late-January on, his annoyed mutterings could be heard from the second floor of the abandoned building. 

In the few weeks since the Black Chimaera's reopening, Mannie had become as much a permanent fixture of the pug after death as he'd been before.  In fact, other than his new transparent hue and inability to consume alcoholic beverages, everything was about the same as it had been before that day.  The later chance, really, had been the most crushing revelation for the newly-born spirit.  Patrons of the Black Chimaera were slowly learning to ignore, or cope with, the constant forlorn looks Manfred Ashford gave their various shots and glasses of ale.  Wherever a fresh drink had been placed on a table, Mannie's slightly vacant expression followed and remained until the drink had been completed or another, better looking drink had been served elsewhere. 

A particularly steamy shot of Unicorn's Breath had captivated Mannie's attention.   It wasn't until the woman next to him spoke up that he'd become aware of her presence.  He turned his balding head in Liadán's direction, raising an eyebrow in the bag's direction. 

Intrigued, he reached for the bag, only to have his hand pass uninhibited through the bag and Liadán's hand.  "Feckin' eh," he muttered, gesturing at the bag.  He folded his arms over his chest as he glared up at Liadan.  Death, and the subsequent transition to a non-corporal lifestyle, hadn't done anything to improve Mannie's sense of optimism.  "I can't open the damn thing."  He leaned back against the back of the chair he was hovering just above. 

Your Nickname: Mai
Have you read and do you agree to the Code of Conduct?: Yes
How did you find us and decide to write with us? RPG Directory
If you have written other characters here: Yes
If Yes, list them all:  Cináed Tawse
Tulojow Nagde
Sasha Schlagenweit
Jacoba Schlagenweit
Mairead ó Fearghail
Dennis Creevey
Chris Colburn
Deaglan McDonough
Is this a Primary or Secondary Character?: Secondary

Full Character Name: Manfred Blagden Ashford
Character Birthday & Age: December 3; 53 years at death
City & Country of Birth: Islington, UK
Blood Purity: Pureblood
Alma Mater: Hogwarts - Slytherin

Job (If any): N/A
Type of Creature: Ghost
Are they Registered with the Ministry of Magic?: No

Are they considered a 'Dark' Creature?: He was considered a dark wizard in life so, chances are, he would be a dark creature.  He's only just made the transition from living to ghost so he has very little history as a creature. 
If yes, What crimes have they committed to earn this title:  As of yet, he has committed no crimes as a ghost. While he was still alive, Manfred served around twenty-eight years for treason, murder and other Death Eater activities. 

Are you currently under pursuit by the Ministry of Magic for these crimes?: No - Ministry is, as of yet, unaware of his return as a ghost. 

Wand: N/A - other than the wand he had at his death, Mannie has been without a wand since he was originally arrested in 1978. 

Physical Description: Even in his youth, Manfred Ashford was never considered an attractive wizard.  His long-term stay in Azkaban did little to improve the man's appearance.  Perhaps, the biggest advantage to being a ghost is that his appearance is, now, frozen in time.  He's now a little transparent but still resembles (and always will resemble) the man at the time of his death. 

Mannie's stature is short, squat and stocky.  His dark brown hair is streaked with large patches of grey and his hairline has receded well to the crown of his head.  Dark brown eyes match what color remains in his hair.  At the time of his death, he was clothed in grey trousers, a disheveled, white button up shirt and a leather coat. 

Personality Description:  Almost thirty in Azkaban has eroded just about all of Mannie's social skills, leaving him bitter, harsh and highly anti-social.  He openly dislikes most people with only a few exceptions and mostly tolerates those that are in his pre-determined social circle.  Even before his death, he rarely ventured beyond the end of Knockturn Alley.  Now, as a ghost who needs nothing from the outside world (food, employment, etc), Mannie hasn't left the darkened interior of the Black Chimaera.  Though his antisocial behavior may mask it to a large extent, Mannie is a resilient man as evidenced by his surviving Azkaban. 

History:  Born the only child to a moderately wealthy pureblood, it was no surprise when Manfred was accepted to Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin.  He was, all around, a rather unremarkable student whose strongest classes were Charms and Divination.  He finished school with six OWLs and four NEWTs and worked as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley for a short period. 

But, life of a working stiff proved boring, especially when compared to the excitement and promise of glory the Death Eaters offered.  He joined their ranks at the earliest opportunity and proved to be a reliable follower.  That was until Mannie was detained during the act of casting a Dark Mark over the home of murdered Ministry official.  He sentenced to 30 years in Azkaban. 

During the last decade of his detainment, a young Slytherin by the name of  Cináed Tawse was deposited in the cell next to his. He offered the young man support and advice and by the time the younger man was released, they'd become trusted friends.   Cináed's pub had been up and running by the time Mannie was released a couple years early.  Unable to find employment, Mannie took up residence at the Black Chimaera where he pitched in with daily chores on rare occasions. 

He still doesn't understand why, but on December 24th, someone unfamiliar to Manfred abducted him from the Black Chimaera and brought him to an unrecognizable location.  He was placed under an imperious curse and compelled to go to the home of a muggle born where he murdered three of the muggle family members and the maid.  He went after the muggleborn boy but, despite having no intentions of murdering the boy, the boy came in possession of the wand he was carrying and, in the next moment, his earth-bound spirit was leaving his butchered body behind. 

Writing Sample:

Sum up your character in one paragraph: Crass, rude and bitter.