Coach Amelia Pierce

April 29, 2011 10:29 AM
Spring was just beginning. It was still cool out, but compared to the cold it had been during the past months of practice, the Pitch must feel beautifully warm today. It certainly did to Amelia. While she was tempted to go with short sleeved robes, she decided to stick with the longer sleeves if only because it was a bit windy today. Cool air was one thing, cool gusts quite another.

She also tied her hair back in a tight french braid so it wouldn't get in her eyes and block her sight of the game at an inopportune time. Given how Aladren had gone after Teppenpaw during the first game of the season, she dared not risk anything impairing her ability to intervene in a timely fashion when they were up against Crotalus in the Final.

She allowed the captains as much time as they wished to use for their pre-game speeches then called them over when both looked to be finishing up. She realized as they approached that this was a battle of Heads - the Head Girl lead one team while the Head Boy lead the other. As if this match needed another reason to get messy.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Final match of the year," Amelia said, her voice assisted by a sonorus charm. "We have Aladren, lead by Captain Daniel Nash, up against Crotalus, lead by Captain Charlotte Abbott. You all know the rules; please keep to them so we can have a nice clean game today." Though, to be fair, neither Aladren nor Teppenpaw had actually broken any rules in their game and that one certainly hadn't been clean. "Would the captains please shake hands."

They did so, and she sent them back to their teams as she released first the snitch, and then the bludgers from the chest of balls beside her. Once they flew away, she picked up the Quaffle, and began the game with a countdown, "Game begins on my whistle. Three. Two. One." She threw the Quaffle into the air as high as she could, and blew into her whistle, the shrill sound piercing through the air.

She mounted her own broom, triple checked that her wand was ready for emergencies, and followed the Quaffle and the players into the air.


OOC: It's the final, so you've all done this before, but if you have any questions put them on the OOC board. Long detailed posts, and have fun!
Subthreads:
1 Coach Amelia Pierce Quidditch Final: Aladren vs Crotalus 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 1 5


<font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font>

May 10, 2011 8:25 PM
For the second time in one game, Edmond heard the whistle, felt a brief moment of hope that his prayers for the game to end had just been answered…Only to hear, instead of a final score, that they were starting over again.

The bleakness he felt when that happened was enough that he instinctually pushed back with anger to keep functioning. For one crazy moment, he considered just aiming one of the Bludgers at Coach Pierce so she wouldn’t do that again, but then the feeble, flickering candle flame of Sanity came back and spread into enough of a wall to let him realize that he’d just get expelled from school, and that it wasn’t yet bad enough for that. Besides, she wasn’t playing, exactly, which meant she wasn’t the source of the problem, just a detail of it.

Still, when the game resumed, he didn’t run for the Bludgers. Nor did he really take much notice of who had the Quaffle. Instead, he began to watch the Seekers.

He had been thinking that removing the other Crotalus players would give Arnold more room to work with, since the Quaffle would remain firmly planted at one end of the Pitch, but that wasn’t working. They were too good at rising from the ashes and soldiering on. Admirable, he would admit, but currently undesirable. So perhaps he should just get Arnold’s main distraction out of the way. If he had no one to compete against, he could concentrate, and if the Crotalus team had their Seeker unconscious in the hospital wing, they had to feel despair, didn’t they? That was the worst thing that could happen to a team with an alternate, much less one that didn’t.

He felt a certain reluctance to attack Marissa, though. She was sweet, and, because of her lack of skill with a wand, she was also completely helpless. That shouldn’t have mattered in Quidditch, where they couldn’t use wands and she had an advantage over a lot of the people on the Pitch just based on seniority, but he was not particularly good with new thoughts, and he had long since become accustomed to thinking of Marissa as someone he helped.

“I really am sorry about this,” he said, though no one was around to hear him, and then flew to a loose Bludger and hit it toward her as hard as he still could.
0 <font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font> Wandering off-course again 0 <font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font> 0 5


<font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font>

May 11, 2011 10:09 PM
He knew it was kinda stupid, but Topher couldn’t help feeling kinda irritated that it was Stratford who intercepted his shot and sent it off toward a Crotalus. The guy was, Topher thought, shorter than he was, for goodness’ sake. If Carey got involved, well, no one could help that, but Statford? He was just a regulation weirdo.

People weren’t intercepting as much now, so the Quaffle moved out of the middle, but the game was still moving fast, and it was hard to get a definite sighting of one of the Bludgers, much less do much with it. Even the Aladrens weren’t going for it as energetically. Both of the instruments of pain were on the loose, attacking at random, which meant both teams were at a disadvantage until someone seized control of them again.

The Aladrens got there first. More than that, both the Aladrens got there first. Topher looked one way and then the other, then flew, as fast as he could, toward Marissa.

As he did this, it occurred to him that he was crazy. Sane people, when given the choice, got in the way of Bludgers hit by Preston Stratford, not Edmond Carey, for Preston Stratford was small and Edmond Carey was not. Though blaming things on Daniel Gardiner’s malign influence on his genes was more fun and his usual strategy, Topher thought he was going to have to blame this one on his mother. His origin story indicated that she had some crazy tendencies.

It turned out that either Carey was slowing down or that Topher had overestimated him, because his shoulder didn’t dislocate the second he hit the Bludger away from Marissa, but he definitely hit the impact. Since the Bludger was loose again, though, he didn’t have time to think about it, instead going after it and turning it on an Aladren.
0 <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font> Couldn't you have stuck to terrorizing Chasers? 0 <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font> 0 5

<font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font>

May 12, 2011 4:30 PM
Trendsetter wasn’t really a word Marissa would have normally applied to Edmond Carey, the nice but somewhat geeky six-foot-tall and plain guy who dressed more old-school and formally than most people’s grandfathers, but in this game, that seemed to be what he was. Not only was he strongly influencing the flight plans of the Chasers, he was also, as far as she could tell, single-handedly controlling the locations of the other Beaters. Because he’d chosen to spend his time ridding the school of its Chaser population, the other Beaters, aside from that one shot at her, hadn’t really had much time to do anything but stay in that same area. She suspected Aladren’s other Beater wasn’t so much helping him as trying to make sure he didn’t hit their Chasers, though it was hard to say.

She wasn’t really objecting too much to the lack of danger to her life and limbs, though, so when Marissa saw him heading her way, her reaction was to think something very impolite. Maybe Topher and Phoenix would be pulled in and succeed in taking out Arnold, but it was more likely that Marissa was going to leave the Pitch in pieces if he didn’t get bored or distracted very soon. She wished Cassie was playing, because then, all they would have needed to do was put his girlfriend in peril and, if Marissa was right in several things she’d deduced about his character and personality over the years, Edmond would have been off to deal with that like a shot, leaving her with considerably less, even if Arnold and Preston were both still there to bother her, to worry about.

Unfortunately, Cassie was not playing, and it had never even been publicly confirmed that Edmond was actually her boyfriend and not just her amiable stalker. Goodness knew they had never so much as casually touched in public, or the whole school probably would have known about it by the end of the hour. So all Marissa could do was fly off toward Arnold, hoping that it would make Edmond wary of hitting his cousin and so he didn’t try to hit her.

It didn’t work, though Marissa did make a note to thank Topher after the game. That had taken some nerve on his part, and she appreciated it. Unfortunately, now she was back in range of annoying Arnold, and who even knew what was going on with the Bludgers….
16 <font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font> Or at least go back to it now? 147 <font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font> 0 5


<font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font>

May 12, 2011 4:44 PM
Edmond blinked in surprise when one of the Crotalus Beaters materialized and deflected the shot toward Marissa. He hadn’t anticipated that, and wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. Admirable, he supposed, of the first year to get involved like that when there was almost certainly still plenty of action for him in the game proper, but foolish; the best equipped person here to protect Marissa was Marissa, and that fellow the worst.

Marissa was now closer to Arnold, which normally would have made a second attempt inadvisable, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance, and Arnold could dart around like a gnat you could never quite swat during practice. If he could do it then, he could do it now, and prove that whatever Anthony the Seventh had spent on his broom had been a worthwhile investment. He’d wanted to go for Charlotte the entire game, but Marissa was the target now, and a first year wasn’t going to meddle with that.

Not bothering to try to look intimidating, he swept toward the redirected shot, then hit it off-course. As a tiny mark of respect to his fellow Beater, he didn’t hit it directly back toward where he wanted it to go, which was also back toward Mr. Calhoun, but instead flew fast toward the neutral direction, then hit it back toward Marissa at an angle. She wouldn’t, he thought, be expecting it now. Not like that.

He smiled vaguely. It was always slightly better when the other Beaters gave him something to work around, so it wasn’t so straightforward. So it was about solving the puzzle of getting around them, rather than just about hurting as many people as he could. Why had he told Preston to keep himself and the other Beaters out of his way at the beginning? He couldn’t quite remember.

A puzzle to solve. That was it.
0 <font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font> I'm afraid both answers are 'no.' 0 <font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font> 0 5

<font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font>

May 12, 2011 5:07 PM
After a second of looking around for the Snitch and anything else that might not be going her way, Marissa saw what was happening with the Bludgers. The Beaters were playing tennis or something.

She knew that wasn’t going to last. Topher tried really hard, but he was maybe all of twelve, and was maybe still eleven. Edmond had been doing more, so he wasn’t as dangerous as he’d been at the beginning of the game, but she would still bet that he could outlast Topher any day of the week. Still, if they were playing ping-pong with the Bludger, interrupting each other’s moves and dancing around a little below where the Seekers were, even for a few minutes, that was a few minutes she wouldn’t otherwise have had. She focused her full attention on looking for the Snitch.

It didn’t appear at once as she frantically scanned the air, and she shook her head, trying to force herself to refocus. Marissa had just felt the jolt of her heart that came when she thought she saw a flash that looked good when a Bludger slammed into her midsection.

For a dazed second, she thought something about how that was so much for the tennis match theory. Then, going backward by instinct to get away from the damn thing, she began gasping for air. Or at least trying to. The air seemed to be catching somewhere in her throat, refusing to go down to her lungs as she tried also to force herself to be calm, to not panic, to fight the impulse to breathe fast and hard and instead control what she was doing, going for slow and deep despite the pain that came with even thinking about that.

She tried to think through what she’d picked up about anatomy as a doctor’s daughter. She thought that if anything important – spleen, kidneys, liver, stomach – had really taken serious damage, ruptured or something, she’d be in a lot more pain, but thinking was hard, and she wouldn’t have been a doctor even if she’d stayed in the Muggle world. She was going to have to have the medic do whatever it was magicals did to check for that.

Once she got the Snitch. She had to get the Snitch. Right now. Or at least as close to right now as she could figure out how to dive again without immediately falling off the Pitch. She tried to just drop in altitude while remaining upright, thinking that was better than nothing.
16 <font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font> Well, it was worth a try. 147 <font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font> 0 5


<font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font>

May 12, 2011 5:49 PM
Having a shot intercepted by Edmond Carey wasn’t, as Topher had predicted, as annoying as having one intercepted by Preston Stratford, but it still wasn’t an especially good feeling. It wasn’t as bad, though, as the one that came when he realized what Carey was doing with the Bludger.

As far as he could tell from today’s game, there wasn’t much to playing formal Quidditch other than thinking really fast and being one step ahead of the next guy. It was a little thrilling, really – even in the moment he realized that the other guy, here, was one step ahead of him. It wasn’t a good thrill, like the ones that came from noticing how the game worked or realizing he was a step ahead, but it was a thrill anyway. It made him want to try that much harder to beat his own certainty that he wasn’t going to make it, that it was already over. Doing what he was pretty sure he couldn’t would be a fine thing.

What happened when he not only realized that he wasn’t going to make it there in time, but actually saw what happened when he didn’t, though, was more of a sick feeling. Not as sick as he guessed Marissa felt with a Bludger to the gut, but it was bad enough to get on with. With it too late to help that, he knew he had to get in there and at least try to return the favor to Aladren. Especially since the Bludger could still potentially attack Marissa as she descended. He had to get it going toward Arnold.

So, pushing his broom a little to manage it, he did.
0 <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font> So is this 0 <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font> 0 5


<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

May 12, 2011 7:26 PM
Arnold had been oblivious to all the Beater drama going on, but that changed when Miss Stephenson suddenly appeared again and he began to hear cracking sounds way too close for comfort. For a second, he wasn’t sure what Edmond was doing, but then, he saw and he flew straight up.

It was good for Aladren that he hadn’t tipped his fellow Seeker off, but in the moment, he hadn’t cared if he did. He had just been trying to keep from being broken apart himself, and now that he looked at the damage done to her, he didn’t regret it one bit. She was still on her broom, but looked like she was about to die; he, smaller, most likely would have gone down. Impact alone might have taken him off the broom, even assuming that their height difference wouldn’t have made the same Bludger do serious damage to his sternum or just take off his head.

He glanced warily at Aladren’s lead Beater, trying to believe that he hadn’t been in as much jeopardy as he’d thought he had. Surely, even with David in reserve, Edmond wouldn’t have risked his own team. Even if sticking to the other Seeker like glue was a time-honored anti-Bludger measure at the school level of play. He couldn’t have been that reckless. Maybe they hadn’t been as close together as it had looked like.

When Miss Stephenson began to descend, he assumed it was for medical, but then he saw the same flash she had. For a moment, he felt almost bad, knowing it would be even less of a race than her broom dictated with her in this condition, but then he thought about his brother and how very dead he would be if he prolonged this because he wanted to be a gentleman or play against a worthy opponent or whatever other excuse he came up with to give Arthur later. Sorry, Miss Marissa, he thought, and dove, too.

Five seconds later, he nearly came off his broom as a Bludger slammed into his right elbow. Fumbling with his other hand, he pulled out of the dive and ended up nearly rolling before he got control back, everything he had going into not clutching at the injured joint. His vision went gray-dark for a second, and it was taking an effort not to retch. This is just fantastic, he thought distantly, swallowing hard and forcing himself to go forward. Just a few more seconds, and it would be over. He couldn't give up now.
0 <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font> Good try 181 <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font> 0 5


<font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font>

May 12, 2011 10:39 PM
One step ahead. That was the key. When his shot was a success, Topher didn’t even take time to gloat before he flew off after the Bludger again. The idea was to beat Edmond to it, but he also did this at least partially because if he stopped for one second, it would occur to him that he was deliberately going after something Edmond “Aladren-Has-Me-Your-Argument-Is-Invalid” Carey wanted, and then he would have to run away in panic.

Both the Seekers were injured now, both had been slowed down by their injuries, but he would still bet on Marissa’s hit to the stomach being more debilitating, not least because Arnold had won the Teppenpaw match with a broken or at least bruised-up arm last time. He could handle one hit. That was why Topher had to try his very best to land him with two. He didn’t think he’d get lucky enough to try for three, so the second one, if he made it, had to count.

He made it, but was sufficiently terrified of what the other Carey in their section of the game might do to him when he arrived that it put his aim off. He hit the Bludger at Arnold without bothering to aim for any particular bit of him, just making sure it was definitely heading more toward Arnold than it was toward Marissa, and then he got out of there while he still had all of his limbs attached and unbroken.

Maybe he was temporarily insane and maybe he wasn’t, but one thing Christopher Davison Michael Proctor-Calhoun never was, under any sanity conditions, was stupid. And staying around the place where he’d just assaulted a Carey with a Bludger, possibly right under the nose of another Carey who had a weapon equal to Topher’s and a greater ability to use it, would have, he was reasonably sure, been very, very stupid.
0 <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font> Thank you 0 <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font> 0 5


<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

May 13, 2011 12:52 PM
Everything in his head seemed to be rocking a little, as though his brain were on a boat, from the combination of diving and pain, but Arnold forced himself to go. Just another second, one more, he was ahead now, and he could pass out at his leisure, because the game would be over and Aladren would have won.

Dimly, he hoped that his teammates appreciated this, and would consider it reason enough to forgive the length and brutality of their game. He was, after all, the only Aladren player, unless something had changed in the past minute, to be injured, while the only Crotali who hadn’t caught Bludgers were the Beaters, and the one who’d gone after him might have stress injuries or something. To catch the Snitch anyway….

Still, he couldn’t make a habit of this. Winning in spite of injury. It was impressive, but if he did it too often, no one would be impressed anymore. He really needed, next time, to make sure he came out of the game intact.

His eyes watering, he caught the flash of the Snitch moving, and redirected his broom to follow, having another near miss with being sick as he did. This hurt more than last time; he could only guess it was because it was a joint. Arthur would have known, Arthur chatted away with Healers and mediwizards and witches all the time, but Arnold had never really been that interested. Why did he care why it hurt more at the elbow than off the side of his shoulder? It just hurt.

And there was the Snitch. He wrenched his other arm away from the broom, and his hand closed around the ball, the round of it smacking his palm and the wings cutting at his fingers for a second, just as another Bludger slammed into the back of his right leg. Things went dark for a second too long; as soon as he won the struggle to blink it away, he realized he was falling.

Yeah, that was definitely something else he didn’t plan to make a habit of in games. Dramatic, but maybe a little too much. And there was never any telling, playing Crotalus when the referee was with them….
0 <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font> No need to thank me... 181 <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font> 0 5


<font color=white>Coach Pierce</font>

May 13, 2011 3:46 PM
After dropping Nic and his broom off at the medic tent, Amelia returned to the air and didn't bother putting away her wand. She was more surprised than she probably should have been that the next few bludger hits did not require her (or Cleo's) intervention. Despite this, she kept an eye on the Chaser action, ready to announce goals, or blow her whistle for a foul, but she remained within semi-close proximity to the Seekers.

That was, after all, where Edmond was now.

She kept low, well out of the way of both stray bludgers, the Quaffle mess, and certainly the Seekers themselves. When they started to dive, she shifted even further out, and thought she might see what they were going for herself. When Arthur reach out, she was sure of it. The snitch had definitely been spotted.

Bringing her whistle up to her mouth, she blew out the signal for the end of the game in three long bursts as Arthur's fingers closed around the golden ball. The last burst of sound ended rather abruptly, as Arthur took a final bludger hit and Amelia dropped the whistle in favor of casting the levitation charm before he fell too far. He seemed conscious, so he couldn't be too badly off, and she sent his broom back to him.

She then used another charm on her voice to announce, "Aladren has caught the Snitch. The final score is 190 to 40. Aladren wins!"

Ending the sonorus charm, she flew her broom over to the injured Seekers, and asked, "Can you both make it down to the medic's tent on your own, or do you need help?" The Crotalus Chasers, she assumed, could make their own way down to Cleo since most of them had been playing the majority of the game with their injuries. Though she would be making sure every one of them visited Cleo today.
0 <font color=white>Coach Pierce</font> GAME OVER! Aladren wins! 190-40 0 <font color=white>Coach Pierce</font> 0 5


<font color="blue">Arnold Carey</font>

May 13, 2011 10:31 PM
Arnold was deeply relieved to have his worst suspicions about the Crotalus Head of House proven false when he stopped falling despite succeeding where her girl had failed. He climbed back on his broom with difficulty, since one arm was most likely broken and the other was busy with the Snitch, but he managed it, and was sitting up by the time Coach Pierce arrived.

“Yes,” he said, then realized he hadn’t technically answered her question. “I can get there.”

It all felt slightly anticlimactic, somehow. He had just won the Quidditch Championship for his House. There should have been some fanfare, something a little more dramatic than this. He was supposed to be feeling triumphant, not hurting and like he had somehow missed something, not feeling like he’d drifted aside and completely disappeared. Like none of it had even mattered at all.

There had to be one better, somewhere. Something he could do and feel like he’d done something at the end of it, not like he’d been playacting and was now realizing it wasn’t real. Maybe next year’s Championship.

He laughed a little, then, because of how strangely that thought came together, and then tried to stop when he realized he might sound like a crazy person. He was just winding down, he guessed. “Medic. Right. I won.” Announcing that made him feel a little better, and he headed off in the direction he had been instructed.

“Hi,” he said to the medic. “A Bludger hit my elbow, and then the back of my leg.” He was slurring his words a little; stupid pain kicking in. “I think something broke in the arm. And I won the match.” He was still holding the Snitch, and held up the hand doing that as evidence. He expected to repeat the display a few times once the rest of the team caught up.
0 <font color="blue">Arnold Carey</font> ...It's over? Really? 181 <font color="blue">Arnold Carey</font> 0 5