App: Scorched

[theheartlessman]

Application For Scorched

Out of Character Information

player name: Mica
player journal: toomanywords
playing here: Aveline Vallen | avelinerampant
Fai | misfortunes_heir
where did you find us? Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high
are you 16 years of age or older?: yes.

In Character Information

character name: Howl Pendragon, aka Howell Jenkins, aka, The Great Wizard Jenkins, aka Wizard Pendragon
Fandom: Howl's Moving Castle (Ghibli Film Version)
Timeline: From the point at which he initiates the house-moving spell, about halfway through the movie
character's age: About 30, no canon age given

As a note, the movie canon for Howl's Moving Castle focuses on the relationship between Howl and Sophie almost to the exclusion of all other relationships. Indeed, many otherwise fairly central plot points are glossed over or excluded entirely as a result. Because of this, I will be pulling elements from the book of the same name, upon which the movie is based, to fill the gaps in setting and personal history only where they do not conflict with the movie.

Such instances of canon-expansion will be clearly marked with a red asterisk,* and will include hover text to further elucidate the information.

So with that, let us begin.

powers, skills, pets and equipment:* The magic employed by Howl and indeed most of Ingary seems to be a hodge-podge of methods and techniques cherry-picked from other traditions. There is a clear symbolism to the runes and picture-forms used to convey written spells to their destinations, a sort of visually dependent alchemy. Most potions and spells seem to rely a great deal on the faith of the one they're working for or on; spells for luck that consist of a mixture of pepper and sand, for example. At the same time, the ingredients do seem to actually matter, and a great deal of Howl's attention is taken up in the collection and hording of random artifacts, often of great power. His magic might seem at first to be shysterism, but it has real effects, often quite powerful ones. In particular, likely aided by the bargain he made with Calcifer, Howl is quite often able to enact magical effects with little or no preparation. This is not seen elsewhere in the movie, even with powerful sorcerers like Sulliman, all the magic shown seems to have been constructed beforehand and is only released, like firing a pre-loaded gun. So far as flexibility, almost anything goes.

However, there are limitations to his power.

In a more malleable form of the same magic that's been used to cripple and enslave his fellow wizards, Howl has been using his magic to transform himself into an enormous bird. It's mentioned, half in passing, that this carries a certain risk— that one day he may not be able to change back. This is, perhaps, the most overt representation Howl shows of how deeply he has been injured by his pact with a demon, that it is sometimes his magic ruling him, and not the other way around. He is losing his humanity, bit by bit, and becoming a monster. This is most clearly shown when he exerts his magic beyond ordinary use, unintentionally transforming his arm into a talon as a result. It appears to be quite painful, despite Howl's nonchalance, and although he appears not to care, it may be true that one day soon he may go too far, and be unable to return to the man he once was.

canon history: Born in modern-day Wales, in the UK*, Howell Jenkins has spent his life alternately amazing and disappointing his family. At a young age, Howell found his way, via a magical door and the misuse of a school writing assignment,* into the fantastic land of Ingary*. At the time, he was ten.

An extraordinary talent with the magical arts, Howell secured a position among the court as a student to the Court Sorcerer, a woman named Sulliman, and came to call himself 'Howl.' Afterward, Sulliman would refer to Howl as one of her most brilliant students and, as with many of the important people in Howl's life, a source of terrible regret. And why should she not regret him? Howl was a typical young man, but he made terrible decisions, though ones often made on a foundation of very good intentions.

When he was roughly fourteen Howl, having learned of the possibility of harnessing a demon's power from Sulliman*, attempted to meet with new demons as they fell from the sky as shooting stars. And that was where he met Calcifer. Many demons fell with the stars that night, and several even were caught by Howl, but they are a fickle lot, and many preferred to run, and die free, than to live in bonded communion with a human*. Calcifer, however, was very different— he wanted to live, whatever the cost, he wanted not to die there in the marshes. And so Howl, naive in his pity, swallowed the fallen star and traded his very heart for the demon's power, as the demon traded his freedom for Howl's shared life.

And that, is when it got a little strange.

Sophie Hatter, a woman who would figure quite dearly into Howl's future had, at that point, used a powerful magical artifact of Howl's own eventual crafting to travel through time and space to that moment, the key and pivotal conjunction of lives. Having witnessed the formation of Howl and Calcifer's contract she called out, "Come find me, in the future!" just as the spell shattered, sling-shotting her back to her own time and space. For the rest of his life, Howl remembered her, and wondered what she'd meant, and where he might once again find that mysterious girl from the marshes.

Years pass with little comment— a now-heartless Howl leaves Sulliman's tutelage and strikes out on his own. He gains a well-earned reputation for wooing young women and summarily discarding them once his initial interest wanes. His heartless treatment of these young women lends him a reputation for "stealing hearts," and it's entirely possible that he did so in a literal as well as metaphorical fashion. At some point, Howl had a brief and passionate relationship with a powerful witch known as the Witch of the Wastes. He broke off their engagement when he realized that what he'd thought of as a fiery young woman was actually a much older lady, with a cruel heart that had been utterly consumed by her own demon*. Howl escaped with his heart, his life, and what little dignity he posessed— not much, that is to say. He found sanctuary on the moores, in a castle of his own construction that, equipped with chicken feet, could move about the land, and therefore never fall prey to spies or spells that might try to find and catch him. Into this castle, he built a magical Door that he could link to various rented buildings in cities proper, and thus came to live several double lives, in the comfort of his own home, and well cocooned in magic that potected him from the machinations of Sulliman, the Witch of the Wastes, and anyone else who might try to threaten his feckless ways. He even picked up an apprentice, a foundling orphan on the streets of Porthaven, where he was known as The Great Wizard Jenkins. Markl became the final piece to Howl's puzzle, a steadying influence, someone to call his own, and someone to limit his worst excesses. Life couldn't have been more complete.

And that was, of course, when he finally found Sophie in the quaint little town of Market Chipping. It was as if by chance— he took a side-street to avoid the vengeful Witch of the Waste's hunting henchmen and found himself coming upon a scene that was becoming all too common across Ingary. War was on with a neighboring nation and with the influx of new, undisciplined officers, the soldiery were feeling quite comfortable harassing defenseless young women in the alleyways. Howl could have left it alone— indeed, he's heartless enough to have done so, but something...

Well, he saved her, marched the two men that had cornered her off with his magic, and proceeded to rescue her a second time from the henchmen that had of course still been chasing after him. Howl's flirtation was as effortless as it was inevitable; at the time, Sophie was suitably impressed. Of course, this attention wasn't going to go unnoticed by the Witch of the Waste, and as a result of that one's machinations, Sophie showed up at his castle not long from then, but in much altered form. Most people would have taken the ninety-year-old woman in their kitchen for what she appeared to be, but Howl was fooled by neither her appearance nor her hasty lie. He immediately saw Sophie for what she was, recognizing her curse and the message the Witch had concealed in her pocket from the very beginning. If he were less of a feckless ass, he might have mentioned the curse then, and saved a great deal of grief, but Howl the heartless had his own agenda, and saw to himself first, as in all things.

And Sophie, she of the long nose and granny dress, spent Howl's time in cleaning Howl's castle, by her own choice. In the meantime, Howl himself had been off through his magical Door, and spent some time wreaking havoc among the far-off front lines of the War. He came home late, wreathed in gunpowder smoke and worldweariness— this war was killing the magical population of Ingary, was burning cities and destroying arable countryside, and not a soul seemed to care. Howl, making no distinction between either side of the conflict, nor with the patience for Calcifer's optimism, went to bed, and began the morning with his usual bathing rituals. But as far as relaxation and rejuvenation, the bath Was Not To Be.

You see, Sophie, had cleaned.

The thing about Howl, more than anything else, is that he is vain. More vain than ten peacocks put together, to the point that he even uses magic to maintain his luscious blond hair— except for when Sophie the time-traveling cleaning lady reorganizes your hair-dying potions and you come out of the bath as...

A GINGER?!?!?!?!
(gasp!)

Of course, the color-changing magic quickly dissolved back to his natural dark color in the face of Howl's wroth, but it was already too late. Quite displeased by this dissolution of the normal order of his life, Howl engaged in what could charitably be called a temper tantrum; he screamed, ran around the house, got up in people's faces, collapsed in melodrama, declared that life wasn't worth living if he couldn't be beautiful, and then covered himself, the fireplace, and much of the floor in green slime. To top it all off, Howl even summoned shadow-spirits from the darkest pits of hell, so that he could properly emphasize how not-cool he was with his natural hair-color showing.

It took some doing from house den-mother Sophie Hatter, but it wasn't long before he'd been given the normal treatment a fussy baby deserves— sent to bed, where he continued to make a brat of himself. You see, not long ago, while Howl had been absent, he'd been called to appear at the palace as more than one of his own alter egos, but was (of course) putting it off, perhaps in the hope that by not thinking about it he could avoid the whole thing. Somehow or another, he convinced Sophie to go in his place, though of course he went along as well, in disguise. Later, Howl would reveal that it had been his plan to go all along, but it was Sophie's presence that gave him the courage to do so. Sophie, unlike all the others, hadn't just been interacting with the suave and heartless Howl, but with Calcifer, with which Howl's heart truly lay— he was falling in love, not just lust, and practical Sophie was the best thing for him.

Of course, with Sulliman hotter on their heels than ever, in the wake of the disastrous trip to the palace, Howl had to relocate the terminus doors of their home— he set the castle along painted lines, chalked a diagram on the floor, held Calcifer out of the hearth, and initiated the spell that would warp the world, altering the Door that connected all the disparate points in space that made up his home— and found himself standing in Anatole, with an empty shovel, an entirely different Door at his heels, and not a single unprofane thought in his silly head.

personality: Howl is a heartless, feckless, hedonist of a man. He runs from consequences as if they were trying to kill him, which inevitably leads to situations in which they actually are. He came to Ingary thoughtlessly, and without the kind of forethought that led figures such as Narnia's Peter Pevensy not to fully close the Wardrobe door behind him— a bad start to a life lived by not thinking too hard about what he's doing or too far ahead of what he's about to do. He signed up for Sulliman's apprenticeship without having a real reason to do so, aside from a general need for help in this new Realm of Ingary— a decision that required the taking of several fairly serious oaths, which eventually came back to bite him. Even later, when he'd chosen to take in Calcifer, when he'd left the court and taken up with the Witch of the Waste, or when he'd built the magic that supported the Castle for which his canon is named, he couldn't find it in him to think farther ahead than his next meal. But for all that, he's somehow survived.

Because even though he's lazy, dishonest, and thoughtless almost to the point of cruelty, Howl is clever.

He's as crazy as a fox and twice as daring, willing to burst through a crowd of enemies on pure momentum and confidence alone, or summon a lightning strike to within touching distance to break their lines. He acknowledges in one breath that the battle-magic involved in turning oneself into a flying monster inevitably destroys the humanity of the wizard, but still does it himself. He criticizes the Witch for her management of her demon all the while being no better in his own dealings. He's so childish, in so many ways, with that teenager's courage, as if Howl doesn't really believe he could ever be so badly hurt as to die, or lose anything he really cares for. He seeks pleasure in ways both large and small, selfishly putting his own petty desires and opinions above anyone else's, believing that he is somehow more right than anyone else, regardless of the situation. It's important to remember that while Howl has grown up, his heart, disembodied and still beating within Calcifer's flame, is still that of a young boy, innocent enough to see a dying demon, begging for help, and to willingly sacrifice his heartbeat to save it.

So yes, he's a womanizer and an ass, but he means well, and while his intentions are not always good, they are only rarely malicious, and never just for the sake of malice. His heart is good, and he's a good man underneath his basic, cowardly nature. And maybe what's worst about him, about being him, is that he knows it. Howl is heartless, not brainless; he's aware that he shouldn't spend the food money on a new silk coat, that he should take other's opinions into consideration, keep his promises, uphold his responsibilities, but he doesn't. He reaches with shaking hands for the will to be better, and finds himself lacking, thus lies the downfall of many a smitten young woman, left languishing at the site of what she supposed was her true love: Howl cannot bear to be tied down by his romances, but he delights in stringing them along after him in exchange. It's cruel, yes, and heartless, but he doesn't make these kinds of decisions in order to hurt people. He just hurts people, no matter what he does.

why do you feel this character would be appropriate to the setting?
I feel like Howl, with his magical connection to both doors and Doors would have some interesting thoughts about Anatole. His consorting with Demons and his lack of a heart is likely to bring about some entertaining conversations with people, and his unique magic will raise some eyebrows. It's all such a good platform from which to seek potentially hilarious and heartbreaking CR, don't you think?

Writing Samples

Network Post Sample: [Video]

Good evening.

[Howl's voice cuts through the usual newcomer protests with ease. Even if he's lost as to the purpose of their abduction, he'll never let on. Faking ease is an art form, and Howl Jenkins a master.]

My name is Howl. I was wondering if anyone had seen a friend of mine, who's probably gotten himself into a lot of trouble all on his own.

[Don't mistake this kind smile for altruism; either Markl's in trouble, or he's likely going to be.]

Markl, honestly. Did you have to tell them everything?

Third Person Sample: Even as a child, Howl had not been the kind of person who could accept 'no' as an answer. He fought every restraint reality placed on him, even a borrowed reality that he might as well have invented for his own convenience. Rules were meant to be replaced, after all, not followed. Don't stand on the windowsill, you'll fall out. Don't slide down the roof, you'll break your neck.

Don't sprout feathers, don't spread your wings, Howell. Don't learn to fly.

Well, you tell a child not to be remarkable, and what does he do? It hurt, of course, the quills fledging through his skin, the many-times too quick transformation of blood-feather to flight pinion, the ache of new muscles in use, even as they finished the process of coming into being. A sensible creature might not have leapt from the building until he was properly a bird— but it was the chance of death that made living such an impossible joy. Even the current state of things was only a puff of smoke in the face of that exultation; to fly was a fantastic freedom, pleasure enough to outweigh almost any risk.

And it was remarkable, really, the way that all cities began to look the same when they were viewed from above. Narrow streets and wide avenues both lead to the same fate, and Anatole seemed more caged than even nervous Market Chipping, on the day the war took one step too close. The air was cold, the sun weak, and it took enormous effort to gain altitude above the sooty walls and sullen rooftops. The Mist was oppressive, like a cloud-bank on the Wastes, and even Howl had heard enough to be wary of it's billowing walls. They ringed the city like a prison, and no matter how he strove against the dead winds, he couldn't seem to crest them.

So, there's a limit to how far we're allowed to go? We'll just see about that.

Howl beat his wings and turned wing-over to set himself against the seeping mist. There was no 'never' he could accept, no limit that was worth considering and he plunged, fog-blind and heedless, into the formless dark.


Anything else? ...Anything else? :D