Full Name: Marta Caterina Abene Castell

Nicknames: Martha, though she does not answer to this as it is the Anglicized version of her name

Prima

Birthdate: April 23, 1872

Current Age: 16

Occupation: Student

Reputation: 9, due to the infamous Rios matriarchs and her paternal grandmother's strict Catholicism

Residence: London

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Ash, 11 inches, rigid and neat, dual phoenix feathers- one from Catalonia and one from Britain

Blood Status: Halfblood

Social Class: Middle

Family:
Maternal Grandfather: Geraldo Rios (living, halfblood)
Maternal Grandmother: Lorenza Rios née Barrientos (living, halfblood)
Uncle: Alberto Rios
~~~~ and family
Uncle: Leandro Rios
~~~~ and family

Uncle: Elonso Rios
Aunt: Cosima Rios née Sardellone
Cousins: Luciano Edwin Rios, Mozelle Odelia Rios

Mother: Mireia Carme Aitana Rios (deceased, half-blood)
Father: Aleix Patllari Agusti Castell (deceased, Pureblood)

Paternal grandfather: Franscec Castell (deceased, Pureblood)
Paternal grandmother: Abene Milagro Suarez (Pureblood, living in a nunnery)

Several paternal aunts, uncles, and cousins

Appearance: Five feet and four inches tall and voluptuously curved with sleek limbs and dark brown eyes set into a mobile, expressive face. Her olive skin, high cheekbones, thick lashes and straight as a pin black hair mark her as an outsider. Her wand is carried in a sheath on her right arm.

History:
1872: Marta is born under the light of a brilliant full moon in Barcelona, almost two weeks after her cousin, Mozelle Rios. The full moon is seen as a blessing from Hecate by her superstitious, Greek pantheon worshipping parents.

Third Carlist War Begins

1873: First Spanish Republic Established

1874: Irritated with her nanny, Marta Summons a meat empanada to the half-blood woman's face. Her name is immediately put down for the Catalonia Magical Academy for Ladies.

The Spanish Restoration begins

First Spanish Republic disestablished

1876: Third Carlist War Ends

Marta learns to ride horses and has a tutor brought in for English, French, and German lessons.

1877: Hogsmeade established

Sufficiently progressed in her étiquette, Marta is now permitted to sit with her parents at dinner and her education in her family's trade businesses begins

1878: Ten Years' War with Cuba ends

Marta is gifted her first broom for her birthday.

1879: Marta and her parents travel to London to welcome the birth of Luciano Edwin Rios, her cousin.

1880: Marta's parents are killed in a Quidditch-related accident with a dragon. Her mother had been playing a pickup game of Quidditch with her father near the Portugese seaside when a Peruvian Vipertooth escaped it's handlers at a nearby island reserve. Both were eaten and Marta now has a phobia and hatred of dragons.

Marta moves to London with her maternal uncle and his family.

1883: Marta receives an invitation to Hogwarts and the Catalonian school. She chooses to attend Hogwarts with her cousin, Mozelle.

When Marta receives her acceptance letter for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her uncle celebrates by taking her to Barcelona, where he purchases her wand from a prestigious Spanish wandmaker, with her cousin, Mozelle. The rest of her supplies are purchased in Diagon Alley, and come September first, she is sorted into Ravenclaw house.

Personality: Marta is defiant, proud to the point of being nearly arrogant, intelligent, and utterly unaware of her budding physical appeal to the opposite sex. She avoids closeness to anyone due to the tragic deaths of her mother and father in a dragon versus broomstick incident. She can be sweet and thoughtful, but tends to be cautious about this detail.


Sample Roleplay Post:
Features a character from Vampires: The Dark Alleyway, Amaya O’Reilly

She had never been one to sleep unarmed, not even when she had been allegedly safe in her own home. To be unarmed was to be vulnerable and vulnerability was just plain weak. It was a way of life for her to have at least one blade, a gun, Holy Water, and a vial of gralic spray within reach at all times.

The howl of mortars being fired was her only warning. Sleep faded from her being. Her mind was immediately alert and scanning for nearby attackers as she used her magick to go from tank top and panties to battle ready in the blink of an eye. Adrenaline rushed through her veins like an IV of pure caffeine and sugar. She relished the feeling, knowing that crashing later would be a real bitch.

Sheila didn't even bother with that much clothing. The kangaroo Shifter slipped out of the window with her rifle and headed, presumably, to the roof. There was a brief moment of distraction as Amaya wondered if Sheila's body would bounce as beautifully as her breasts did. It was a thought for later.

Svetlana and David ran out of their makeshift barracks, Shifting into their dragon forms- her's a shimmering silver, his a dull, patina'd bronze- each larger than an 18-wheeler.

Amaya was momentarily distracted by the beauty of the flight against the hellish opera that was sounding around them. Screams resounded in a lyrical, unknown language, answered by curses in English, Arabic, French, and so many other tongues. Whizzing bullets were the woodwinds. Explosions a rhythmic drumming, frightening and making her hair stand on end.

In that moment, between the scorching, protective, fiery blast of two dragons making a path for her, Amaya made a decision. She abandoned her Empath, abandoned her vows to do no harm, and embraced her predatory vampiress. Three hundred years of ignoring the vampiress' wants and needs had turned that part of her mind into a sleek, cunning tigress...

That was no longer caged.

A rush of sheer joy washed over her, eagerness to engage those who would disturb her slumber. Her Desert Eagle aimed and fired as the Empath in her watched in horror, immediately trying to go and check on the dead- very dead- extremist.

A second man, half-charred by dragon flame, appeared in front of her and there was a sickening pop! Blood splattered on her face, crossing her lips like an apertif. She licked her lips clean, savoring the rich, rage-filled, crimson liquid. She could remember only a few times that blood had tasted so good... And none of those involved rage.

She flashed a thumbs up to Sheila, throwing a dagger into the throat of a black clad man to her left. The vampiress slid on one knee into a throng of shooters, disabling two with slices to their Achilles tendon and stabbing their femoral arteries. The need to see them bleed- Blood. More blood. Bathe in their pain. Let it enrich you. Let their deaths rejuvenate you!- washed over her.

The Empath recoiled from the truth of the vampiress, from the truth she had carefully hidden from herself for over three centuries. Her deliberately cultivated civilization was a veneer for raging hunger, for bone-deep violence.

The two men she had taken down screamed while their compatriots froze in shock. Their weapons were trained on her, but no one fired.

"Jaini!"

She laughed, recognized the word as a name for an unclean, female spirit. The laughter didn't stop her forward momentum, which she used to bring herself to her feet and kill again. She had practiced this move a hundred times. Then a hundred times more. And a thousand times beyond that.

Spin on one knee, move to stand, kick leg up, curl knee around opponent's neck, twist self up, snap neck, ride the body down and into a standing position.

She blurred as she moved between the now-firing guns, bending backwards to avoid a head shot and biting into her own lips as a screaming hot bullet ripped a cauterized wound from collarbone to navel- straight down her sternum. The pain made her angry, made the Empath want to hide.

The vampiress within her reveled in it.

She handspring back, ignoring the ache across her heart and was surprised to grab an arm between her legs as she twisted herself right-side up. The owner of the limb got directly in her face and spoke, though she could only translate three words: Die, infidel whore.

Then he fired a nearly full clip into her abdomen.

Hunger and need, pure self-preservation, had her ignoring the scent of herd animal, the taste of unwashed skin, stale sweat, spilled seed, filthas she buried fangs into her shooter. She backed up until healing exit wounds hit wall, her shirt squelching with blood. She fed until he teetered towards unconsciousness, relishing the pints like wine from her adoptive father's cellars.

I want to live, the vampiress screamed even as the Empath whined about how it didn't matter if they lived. How death in such a manner should be an honor. How it would be redeeming that she/they should die serving a cause.

She flung her meal aside, firing two rounds into his skull. No such thing as overkill.

She drove back into the thick of things. Her body twisting as fists were thrown, bullets fired. It became a blur of I will live. I will see my home again. No one will ever hurt me again.

As the skirmish ended, she found two more walking Happy Meals to feed upon, letting them heal the cuts, the bruises, the wounds. And they were delicious as no human in the City had ever been. She rode their fear, their rage, their helplessness, moaning in relief as their hearts raced with panic, then slowed with resignation, and finally stilled in death.

Eron came to her after the second one in a row. There was a flash of blackish-purple light, a chant of something ancient, and darkness claimed Amaya.

Name: Brandi (aliased the-fresh-princess)
Age: 31
Contact: PM
Other Characters: None
How did you hear about us?: Elaine (Mozelle)

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