Absit Omen RPG

He liked it better when Storm was frank - the shedding of polite trivialities usually left behind a man of few morals but Johann still maintained a sense of underlying respect. Balthair could not stop himself from smiling as he was reassured that his grandson has always been very fond of the estate. It was tricky to tell what Balfour was thinking sometimes, so spurned on by his heart that he was. That temper!

             "...our heads. I’ve had a lot of those - Balfour’s had a lot of those judging by what he’s told me of travels."

The older man nodded gently, taking another drag of his cigarette. He could imagine the two of them in their youth... Odin knew how close or far apart, but both lost to the ambitions and wanderlust of desires that couldn't be met. Before he could think to say anything, Johann changed the subject one more.

Even closer to home, this one.

His cigarette burned away as he deliberated, thoughtful gaze not leaving the other wizard. Yes. Johann did seem to be telling the truth. Perhaps he did know loneliness, what it was to feel entirely alone in this world.

"Of course," Balthair finally replied in a soft voice and glanced at the fireplace with an even softer hum. "I've a cottage in Aberdeenshire, where I've lived before, but you can count on my being here from time to time. Not ready to live the life of a hermit just yet."

He looked back at Johann; his smile reached his eyes. "And there's the Croft. I often visit Benneit there, and then Spectres across the country. You mustn't worry too much about me..." Balthair trailed off, hesitant.

This exchange had told him more about Balfour's partner than he would have discovered, if they'd not found a moment alone to speak.

"Thank you, Johann. I hope that you come to see this place as your home as much as my grandson does." Balthair reached out to the side table and stubbed out the cigarette in a pewter ashtray, "It could use someone like you."

The younger wizard, once put at ease, came into his own rather well. Balthair liked Johann best when he was in a chatty and more relaxed element; it was easy to see in such instances what his grandson found so charming - a sort of detail to attention. And an alarming memory, in spite of how blatantly smitten he looked whenever Balfour came up in conversation. It was... something. Sweet, Balthair supposed.

He put aside his empty tumbler and smile dryly as what he called The Almasy Incident was brought back to attention.

            "Only, he’s not here now to stop me asking, nor you to speak your mind."

No sign of lovesickness here. Johann was sharp, he didn't seem to like leaving intellectual stones unturned. All for the better - he would need to be sharp, the way the Spectres carried on without giving thought to the future.

"Think less of you...? No. No, it was vexing to read those things in the Witch Weekly, of course, but it's the price one pays for being a person of note." Balthair leaned back in the arm chair and interlaced his fingers, looking at Johann with unfocused eyes. "And for acting with one's heart instead of mind."

He was trying to remember the exact scene that night. "I was going to say that you were both better off leaving London altogether." The Scotsman sighed, a soft and displeased hiss. "It's a fine city for the young but... that woman. I never liked the mention of her."

Balthair was no naive fool after all. He had never met Ira Almasy but from what he knew and had seen; she was an ill omen. A dangerous creature with none of its warmth. He reached into the front pocket of his robe, retrieving a little cigarette that he rolled between his fingers.

"But I'm an old wizard," he brought it to his mouth and lit it with the same, rhythmic smoothness his grandson adopted. "Maybe I just wanted him to call this place a home again." Balthair blew out a bit of smoke, smiling at Johann. "Does that satisfy your curiousity?"

Balthair was of the opinion that it was better to be frank than to sugar coat his opinions - at least insofar as grown wizard or witches were concerned. The likes of his young grandchildren could do with a bit of spoiling coddling. Even so, he found himself somewhat regretting his mention of a half-blood witch. It had been meant lightly but it seemed that Johann was taking the comparison to heart.

He mirrored the toast, sipped, and then put down his drink on a side table. Balthair smiled softly at the younger wizard's candid reaction, the smile only growing softer at his late wife's name. It was true. The clan hadn't wanted Artis. In spite of its generosity the clan could be rather close-minded when it came to tradition.

              “I’d be honoured to be one. I mean, if it… if … you’ll have me… I...”

"Aye, come now..." he gestured dismissively, though in friendly manner. "Don't dwell on it. Whatever it means to be a Spectre, besides always having an extra space at the table, we don't think of you as an outsider. That isn't our way." They had been quick to welcome Johann when he had come for Samhain, then Christmas and so on.

To say nothing of the quick friendship between the German and Balthair's other progeny[1].

"I only wanted you to know that-" Balthair paused, reclaiming his drink as he tried to strike the right note between seriousness and levity, "- if or when you and my grandson should wish to, ah, move forward... there are no familial barriers."

He finished the rest of the whiskey and then pushed on, to reassure Johann so that his earlier comment might not leave a lasting mark. "I have known Balfour all his life. I promise: he's not looked at any witch, half-blood or otherwise, the way he looks at you. So." Balthair cleared his throat, awkwardly trying not to meet the other man in the eye. "That's that."

1.	Sweet Spectre Child - March 1st

            “I know Balfour’s future is here, well, you suggest he might have been avoiding it until late, but the way he explains it to me is that it’s inevitable, and he accepts it. Openly, talking about the duties, about how it might be when he… when we… move up here.”

Balthair did not sip his whiskey at first, staring intently at the German wizard who was taking a seat across from the armchair on the end of the long sofa. Inevitable? Oh, he was an old man and there was something untouchably moving about hearing the word from the mouth of one who had all mannerisms of speaking a truth. That Balfour spoke freely of coming up here, of assuming his birthright and responsibilities...

The older man drank.

It tasted sweet, sweeter than whisky had a right to taste. If he was smiling to himself he made no attempt to acknowledge its rare presence, and - well, if his eyes glimmered, it was only the firelight and certainly not emotion.

"Worry me?" he lowered the tumbler, repeating only so as to buy a bit of thinking time under Johann's gaze. "Hm. I won't lie. It worried me to begin with, on Samhain. You looked so at home, sitting here on the floor with Knox."

A light, fond laugh and another nip of liquor. "But no. Not anymore. You have to understand that I... I assigned Balfour heir rights because he is so very open minded, in addition to being-" Balthair sighed and looked into his drink, "- being a good leader, I think. But my idea of progressive at the time had been along the lines of him settling down with a half-blood witch."

Whiskey padded over to the space between the two men, well within the emanation of fireplace heat, and he curled up on the thick carpet. Oblivious to the words exchanged above his dark head.

Balthair drank deeply and stretched out his legs as he leaned back into his armchair. His gaze was steady on Johann, pulling itself away from past ruminations.

"He was supposed to gently dilute our musty, pureblood ways and usher us into this century," the Scotsman's smile was dry, and he gestured dramatically with his tumbler. "Now it looks like we must forsake the gentleness. Artis would have approved. She always loved surprises - and you're as surprising as they come."

He did not interrupt.

Interrupting was one of those filthy habits that Balfour was in the habit of doing whenever Balthair was around, cutting into sentences so bluntly that their words felt bruised. So he let Johann speak, while Whiskey came to him to get a good ear-scratching. The older wizard had reservations about... two men at the head of the clan, in their foreseeable future. It was unusual to say the least and it did not look to him like his grandson was going to address how unusual this situation would be.

Well, in the past, a wizard might marry a witch who is complacent to let her husband spend his time with another man. This wasn't the case. Balthair didn't want it to be anyway.

This was the face of progress, wasn't it? Faster than you'd like.

            "I don’t have an intention, Balthair....Just a future, if one is fated for us both. Maybe not what you wanted to hear?" Storm finished, ungraceful in a way that implied his answer had been similar to having teeth pulled.

Balthair watched the German Shepherd withdraw from him, going instead to the Linguist in a sympathetic form of affection. Good dog. Could always tell when someone needed it; probably why Balfour liked him.

"I had no expectations. You know," he said without looking away from Whiskey. "I thought that too. I mean, that my grandson had his own life to lead. He would come for holidays and birthdays and then he would disappear, back to that bolthole in London. Lately, it's almost like he can't keep away."

The gaze slid over to the fireplace, where Johann's lean figure cut a neat silhouette against tall flames. "I feel like I must thank you for that." Balthair paused, finally looking up to meet the younger man in the eye. "Fix us some whisky, won't you? And sit down, for Odin's sake, I'm not trying to poach you."

The drawing room door closed with a soft thud and Balthair shot the other wizard a mild look of gratitude for affording them that privacy. He would prefer not to be interrupted by his granddaughter or her husband - an oddly prevalent occurrence in a home of this size!

But not this afternoon, thank you very much. You would think there were other rooms to haunt and other corridors to pace

Balthair stood in front of the great fire to relish its heat, gaze narrowing slightly to stare into the brilliant blaze of the hearth. Odin knew how many discussions had taken place in this room. How many Spectres have invited strangers into it, poured drinks, exchanged barbed words.

          "Was there something in particular…?"

It felt almost like Johann had appeared next to him without warning. His thoughts had been drifting from their original intent. The older wizard held his hands behind his back, smiling humourlessly at their guest. Guest? No, not accurate.

"I believe it is customary, at this junction of a relationship, for a parent to ask his child's partner about their intentions." Balthair murmured with nonchalant form, his grey eyebrows raised drolly. "Grandchild," he amended before retreating to his armchair. "Balfour is terribly protective of you so I thought it best to approach the subject in his absence."

A tired, comfortable grunt as he sat down. His eyes took on a greenish tint with the light from the fire reflected in them. Balthair observed the German wizard with a neutral air - perhaps even the same air his grandson often used, when uncertain of a response.

"You're a man," he pointed out and folded his hands on his lip. "He's brought men here before but never so often, and never for arbitrary weekends away. Certainly never in the middle of the night, covered in blood. So as not to disappoint the trope: may I ask what are your intentions with Balfour?"

Hearing confirmation that his grandson would indeed be late, Balthair resolved to take advantage of this moment. Gods knew that quiet ones were difficult to come by with an interfering family under this roof.

He snorted softly at the reference to April Fool's, and began to cross the hall towards the drawing room. Whiskey trailed after with hesitation: caught between wanting to bother both men at once.

"It was the Nice Baps[1] that made me wonder." The older wizard easily ignored the accidental implication - at least Johann had the presence of mind to backtrack, as his younger grandchildren often never realised what it was that passed their lips.

"It has been a slow day, I'm afraid. The bairn is so quiet I hardly know she is here at all." Balthair's grim mouth managed a smile and he gestured at the arch leading towards the living space. "Will you come to the fire? I fear it is too warm for this good weather but you'll forgive me an old codger's caution. I think... I think we are overdue a discussion."

His words were chosen with care, emanating a politeness he had rarely exercised before. It rarely mattered how rude Balthair had been to Balfour's attachments in the past after all; but it mattered now.

1.	Taking a cue from the same article, naturally

Late afternoon, Entrance Hall


Balthair Spectre was crossing the Entrance Hall from the kitchen when the doors opened. It had been a warm afternoon, foretelling of spring, and the deep gold of the day came spilling through as a shadow fell across the stone floors. Tall and thin and an increasingly common sight in the manor now. A german shepherd came bounding through with alacrity - behind Whiskey, an actual German.

"Ah, Johann..." the older wizard paused on the final step with a newspaper in one hand and a mug of steaming black tea in the other. "I suppose my grandson isn't yet home."

He had been in the gardens and then the conservatory all day, enjoying the sun while catching up on correspondences. Nathaira had retired early and her husband was taking care of the bairn in their rooms upstairs. It was both nostalgic and new to have the quiet of the house stirred by different presences. In a way Balthair knew for a fact that Balfour was not home; the air felt different.

And he was grateful for the absence. Often, it was either Balfour or his sister - or even Carr - carefully trying to direct their conversations to less serious territories when Johann came to stay; as if they were afraid of what Balthair might say! But here the two of them were and not a single other Spectre in sight.

"Did you have a pleasant walk?" he asked in an offhand manner, going to give Whiskey a pet. "The flower shrubs will be in bloom, soon."

A bulky but well wrapped package arrives in the care of an old but frighteningly large eagle owl. There is a letter attached, written on the stationery of the Spectre clan and carrying its burnt orange wax seal.

Professor Ignan Storm

~ Balthair Spectre ~

Professor Storm,

I have been instructed by my charming granddaughter, Isla, to present you with a bottle of Ogden's finest. She intends for it to be a bribe but I hope you will accept this as a gift of commiseration instead. There are more Spectres than there is sense to go around. I mean that kindly.

You may sympathise? Your relation, our mutual acquaintance besides my grandson Balfour, must be similarly mischievous.


Faithfully,
Balthair Spectre
15th MARCH 2011

Your Nickname: Nuri
Have you read and do you agree to the Code of Conduct?: Yes
Are you over thirteen? Yes
How did you find us and decide to write with us? Friend
If you have written other characters here: Yes
If Yes, list them all: I am so tired. They are all here: member board
Is this a Primary or Secondary Character?: Secondary





Physical Description:
Balthair Spectre is never one to sit still for very long and, after a long life of handling dangerous magical beasts, is in good condition for a great grandfather. He stands almost as tall as his grandsons at about 6'1''. There is a solid and dependable build underlying his lithe figure.

There is still some handsomeness in Balthair's features. Kind, cutting blue eyes underneath a thinning head of snow white hair. His lips are thin and pale, his nose is slightly crooked - often assumed the result of a work accident though really only an accident of genes.

When he is at home on the estate or in his personal abode in Aberdeen, Balthair dresses in comfortable dark robes. He will don thick flannel shirts and corduroys for hikes in the country. Formal events, however, strictly necessitate proper clan-wear. Balthair is very much a stickler for the clan tartan and the many heirlooms of tradition.

Personality Description:
Bit of a grumpy old bastard, not because it is his natural disposition but because he is quite happy to get away with it. In his youth Balthair had been rather similar to Balfour - both of them great adventurers with a sense of initiative and tender hearts.

But he has seen many people come and go, since being a young man. One of his own sons and his wonderful wife. These experiences have cooled his personality somewhere.

Balthair is generally quiet but strongly opinionated when he does open his mouth. While certainly a traditionalist, he has no Purist leanings and would like to see the Spectre clan grow increasingly liberal with time, even if sometimes it seems too liberal for his taste.

He has always been a hard worker and enjoys getting things done. Balthair is most fun when he's had a bit of whiskey or is around his younger grandchildren. He likes to tell stories from his past, and has a dry sense of humour.


History:

CHILDHOOD (1922 - 1934)

Balthair Spectre was born the first child of Irving and Elspeth Spectre, who were both in their mid-twenties when they started their family on the estate just outside of Edinburgh city. It was idyllic for the oblivious and tense for the adults. Four more Spectres would go on to eventually join him as siblings: two brothers and two sisters.

HOGWARTS (1934 - 1941)

At Hogwarts, he had been sorted into the house of Slytherin. The muggle second world war occurred during this era but he was largely sheltered from its effects between living in the castle and the estate.

 It was not difficult to make friends. Balthair was a pureblood from a large family and he had a studious but playful demeanour. He would go on to become a prefect and then Head Boy but his fondest memories of school had little to do with either title. This is because Balthair had met his future wife, Artis, at around this time. The pair had been best friends since first seated together at a Potions lesson in first year; a definite will-they-won’t-they situation until their final months at Hogwarts. They were very much in love with one another and everyone knew it.

TRAINING AND WORK (1941 - 1960)

Balthair married Artis immediately upon graduation and went to train as a dragon handler. She followed him to also train as a handler but gave it up soon after discovering she was pregnant. The pair decided then that they wanted as many children as possible, after having their first (William). Artis chose to stay at home, where she applied her wits to the surprisingly challenging task of organising the Spectre estate. Before she had come along the place was a mess, and the manor somewhat grumpy. She brought life into old corridors and damp cellars.

Even though Balthair’s parents and siblings were skeptical of his choice of wife - although a pureblood her family had no money - they couldn’t deny the force of her personality. Artis never did anything by halves and she was a whirlwind of activity. Her children were never allowed to be lazy and her in-laws never spared her acerbic humour. If there was ever something to be done on the estate, she would do it. She was the only woman in the world who could tear her husband away from the Ministry.

All the while, Balthair continued to train and then work as a handler of dragons. He often travelled around Europe or even further to different beast sanctuaries - but never too far. There was The Croft[1]to manage after all: a task he, his wife, and one of his younger brothers tackled whenever they could. He became the head of what was the beast division in 1950, when his predecessor met with an unfortunate end on the field. It meant being able to spend more time with his children.

In 1960, after a decade of beasts, Balthair retired from the Ministry to run the Hippogriff farm full-time. He would still continue to consult for the beast division, and in fact spent a good deal of time there afterwards anyway.

GOLDEN YEARS (1960 - 1970)

These were some of the happiest years on the estate, even with the first wizarding war looming on the horizon. There are many photographs from this era, of the couple and their ten children. The manor was it its most lively and in spite of the odd argument, everyone got along. Artis had never looked so beautiful and Balthair had never been so content.

Balthair & Artis’ Many Children - Birthdates

William - 1941 (Father to Balfour and Nathaira)
Curstaidh - 1945
Cailean - 1950 (Father to Nona)
Vanora - 1951 (twin) - also knowns as Prudence, her middle name
Beatris - 1951 (twin)
Matheson - 1953 - deceased 1989
Benneit - 1957 (Father to Isla and Alistair)
Gillespi - 1958
Logan - 1963
Myrna - 1965 (Mother to Aisling Cooper) - deceased 1998

FIRST WIZARDING WAR (1970 - 1980)

The Wizarding War. Balthair had a family he wished to protect. He and Artis forbade their children from aligning themselves with Purist politics at this time, even though many of them were tempted to join their pureblood brethren on the wrong side of History. As a clan, they hid muggleborns on the estate whenever they could; it was difficult to do. Balthair’s old classmates and his younger housemates would often keep an eye on him: he opted for non-interference so that no other Spectres would suffer the backlash from his personal ideals.

Many friends were lost to him at this time, and many enemies earned. But Balthair’s first grandchild was born… and then quickly in succession, his other three. Knox was his favourite, the twins doted upon by their father William instead. But Artis, saddened by the fact that Balfour’s biological mother never kept in touch, loved him the most.

They were all so young, so small. They were not prepared for this world and Balthair knew, then, that he had to help change it somehow.

SEPARATE WAYS AND FUNERALS (1980 - 1994)

The end of the war saw Balthair’s children all going their separate ways. Some to work at The Croft, others to find their own abodes in the various bits or pieces of land that the clan owned in the Highlands. The manor was quieter, hollow somehow.

One of his daughters opened a specialty shop for magical wool in Edinburgh. Myrna leaned more towards plants, while William began work on the Scottish Journal of Magizoology. It was only Matheson who continued in his father’s footsteps by being a Beast Handler. He died in 1989, leaving behind a wife and daughter, when a Peruvian Vipertooth bit off his head.

Two years later, Artis passed away from an illness that she had been suffering for the better part of the year. Balthair does not like to think of this era. There are few photographs. Neither he nor the manor have ever been the same, since.

SECOND WIZARDING WAR (1994 - 1997)

The second wizarding war. By this point, Balthair had retired and gone to live permanently in his own cottage in Aberdeen - the estate was left to William’s family. His grandson’s decision to go on to train as a dragon handler was disputed by many Spectres after Matheson’s tragic accident. Towards the end of the war, this conflict resulted in Balfour having a row with William and then leaving Britain to do his training across the world. They rarely heard from him and were too busy anyway, helping take in muggleborns who needed a safe space during this period.

Balthair was dispirited for having to witness another war in his lifetime. While his children and other grandchildren would go on to help fight at the Battle of Hogwarts, Knox stayed on the estate with him. Somebody had to be there to help mend the aftermath.

QUIET YEARS (1998 - 2006)

When wizarding society had recovered after the war, Balthair chose to make his grandson the clan heir. It was an emotional time for him: he had also lost his daughter Myrna to an accident. He was nearly 80 years old and did not trust William’s rash temperament with the title.  His children’s generation were generally difficult to trust: they were still close to the ideologies of Purist families, that rich and tempting aristocracy. Balthair liked to think that Artis would have approved; she had been much more liberal than him, and together they had always wanted to see a more progressive clan.

In terms of work, Balthair continued to consult for the Ministry of Magic and various Magizoology publications. He visited sanctuaries, wrote a couple of books, and travelled abroad to places he’d been unable to visit before. In the 2000s he moved back on to the estate. Knox had requested it. The manor was a lonely place now that all her brothers were gone and her parents settled in their sedate ways.

PRESENT DAY (2006 - 2011)

Balfour Spectre was back in Britain. He had visited many times before, of course, sometimes months at a time. But now he was home for good and Balthair was hopeful that his grandson might live up to the title of clan heir. He was disappointed when Balfour chose to live in London instead, initially seeing it as a slight. It took years to understand that in some ways his grandson was embarrassed to take up a principle position in a family he’d neglected for so long.

Nowadays Balthair has a leisurely life. His consultant work is not too thrilling and he is much more entertained when visited by his many grandchildren. He is old and grumpy and a bit sad but not quite done with life. Artis would have disapproved, if he was.


Describe your job duties and how you go about them:
Balthair is retired but is still listed as a Dangerous Beasts consultant at the Ministry of Magic. If the Beasts Division require his expertise, they will contact him with details of a case and he will join them at an agreed time/place to advise As he was well-known on level four, he sometimes drops by the office to speak to old friends or colleagues who have remained in a more bureaucratic capacity.

Elaborate on your expertise in your field:
Has trained and worked as a Dragon Handler (and afterwards, Beasts Handler) from 1934 onwards. Balthair has also been awarded an Order of Merlin: Second Class for his contribution to the study of magical creatures, and particularly for his bravery in helping to evacuate a wizarding village of an island in Scotland when the area was chosen by dragons as breeding territory. Balthair went on to make this island one of the ministry's dragon reservations.


Writing Sample: N/A


Sum up your character in one paragraph:
Eldest pureblood wizard of the Scottish clan, former Dragon Handler, one of two people for whom the Spectre estate doors open without prompt. He is a widower and was known to have been deeply in love with his wife, who passed many years ago now. Balthair is a bit of an old-fashioned grumpy bastard but ultimately down to earth and progressive in his ideas of wizarding society. Father of ten children. Grandfather of Merlin knows how many. Can probably outdrink you.

1.	Spectre Hippogriff farm