Quaffle, Snitch, and Game for Crotalus on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Amelia Pierce

December 16, 2011 12:16 PM

Game One: Aladren vs Crotalus by Coach Amelia Pierce

For the past three years, the Quidditch final had gone the same way. The same two teams, the same winner. It was almost getting boring. This year, Amelia was going to mix things up by putting the two against each other right off the bat. It would be an exciting start to the season, and the second game would give Teppenpaw and Pecari a chance to face each other for the first time in four years. Less than half of the current players had been around for that.

Today, though, was for the rematch between two teams who had met each other in the finals for three years running. Though it was only the first game of the season, in some ways, that made it even more critical than the finals had been. Before, winning had given the victorious team the Championship. The loser, though, had at least made it to the Finals and therefore took second place overall. Today, the loser would be tied for last place in the school, a position she was sure neither Aladren nor Crotalus had any desire to find themselves in.

The day was bright and sunny. Too sunny, in truth. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, the late autumn air was clear, and looking toward the East could blind a person this morning. Fortunately, the pitch was arranged on a North-South axis, so neither team had a severe scoring disadvantage.

With only a week until Thanksgiving, the mid-November temperature was cool compared to preceeding weeks, but it was still in the high fifties and not yet truly freezing. Still, Amelia had opted to wear one of her heavier robes and added a fashionable purple scarf for a little extra warmth around her neck.

"Welcome to the first Quidditch game of this year's season," she greeted the teams and the audience, her voice augmented by the use of a sonorus charm. She had waited unti the captains - both new to their positions - finished their pre-game speecheds, and now she called them over to her. "Representing Aladren this year is Edmond Carey. Newly leading Crotalus, we have Marissa Stephenson. Captains, please shake hands."

Once they did so, they were free to return to their teams. Amelia released the snitch, and the two bludgers, and picked up the Quaffle. Moving the point midway between the two teams, she held the red ball in one hand and her whistle in the other. Her broom waited beside her, ready for her to call it to her hand and follow the players into the air.

First though, "The game goes until a seeker catches the snitch. A goal is worth ten points, catching the snitch is worth a hundred and fifty. Keep the game clean, folks, and let's get started at my whistle. One. Two. Tweet." She tossed the Quaffle high into the air and the sharp whistle-blow split the air.

The game was on.

OOC:
Usual site rules apply. Longer, more detailed posts earn your team more points. First time players, welcome, and please read the post on the OOC board for more Quidditch specific rules. Have fun!

Subthreads:

Quaffle, Snitch, and Game for Crotalus by Renée Errant {Chaser} with Kitty McLevy - Chaser , Russell Layne, Chaser, Gareth Whitebriar-Beater , Captain Carey, Beater, Sam Bauer, Chaser, Arthur Carey, Chaser, David Wilkes, Keeper, Preston S., Beater, Nic Sawyer, Keeper, Topher Calhoun, Beater, Coach Amelia Pierce

Here we go again. by Capt. Stephenson, Seeker with Arnold Carey, Seeker, Gareth Whitebriar-Beater , Thad Pierce, Reserve

Recentering and Recap by Coach Amelia Pierce with Sam Bauer, Chaser, Arnold Carey, Seeker

Recenter # 2 by Coach Amelia Pierce with Sam Bauer, Chaser, Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

Recenter # 3 by Coach Amelia Pierce with Renée Errant {Chaser}, Arnold Carey, Seeker

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Game One: Aladren vs Crotalus 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 1 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

December 16, 2011 4:54 PM

Quaffle, Snitch, and Game for Crotalus by Renée Errant {Chaser}

Whomever won this game, was ensured the championship. Renée stood with her Febre broom in hand, a little quieter than usual, off to the side of her team, waiting for Marissa to speak, tell them something. For once, no thoughts were tumbling over and over in her head. Her mind was as clear and empty as the bright sky above them. Her first few days back at Sonora, she’d had her first ever headache; why hadn’t Sophia sent her a letter at all during the summer, why was David not sleeping at home anymore, why was Marianna’s lip always smeared, her lipstick brighter, heavier, slipping off her mouth, why was Gabriel always unhappy when he was once again forgiven by the woman of his dreams, and why were her abuelos so silent after once again Renée had defied them? Instead of attempting to answer, she had fallen silent too. The days passed slowly; classes, then Quidditch. Her torrents of black curls that had grown over the summer felt heavier than usual on her head, the heat pressing down hard on them. She wasn’t going to complain. She reveled in every sensation that the pitch had to offer her today. This might be her last game of the season.

She didn’t realize Coach Pierce had been talking until the sound suddenly stopped. Renée went through the motions of propping up her Febre, swinging one leg over, adjusting herself in her seat, bending her legs, feet planted firmly in the ground, and then - freedom! - she kicked off. She rose steadily through the air, earth disappearing, melding into the warmth of the hot day, the purity of the expanding blue sky. There was no end to it. More talking, this time Renée willed herself to pay attention. TWEET. The Quaffle was thrown, and suddenly Renée’s clear mind was filled with visions of red orbs. ‘Mine.’ She flattened on her broom and sped forward, her left arm extending a little bit, catching the Quaffle in the crook of her arm without pause, continuing on in her path toward Aladren goals, hugging the leather ball to her side, pressed against her rib cage.

She had been working in practice with Sam and Linus on making quicker passes. In the last years her strategy had been to confuse the opposing Chasers by doing awesome tricky passes, but she’d outgrown using those all the time. She kept them stored in her waiting muscles, her eager instincts, for a special and much needed occasion. The winning strategy was just to play quick games of Keep-Away with the ball. Grab, pass, catch, pass, pass, pass. She waited only a few seconds before her dark eyes settled on her fellow Crotalus chaser. They’d went from two girls and one boy, to one girl and two boys. It hadn’t been any more alienating than before, though, for her since she’d never enjoyed any special sense of camaraderie with her teammates anyway. Their fault, not hers. If only they were all soaring winged birds catching the Quaffle and tossing it back with their talons. Not people. She couldn’t understand people, she could barely get a grasp on her own family though she loved them. She gravitated toward those whose minds lived outside of their bodies, though hers for the moment was trapped inside. She could understand animals better. She could understand what they wanted out of life. She wanted the same things too.

Sam, or Linus. Sam, or Linus. It had been helping her play better with them by seeing them not as they truly were. Sam was a dog, a Labrador. Combed brown fur, very clean with shadows of dirt on his paws, balanced as gracefully as he could manage on the broom. Linus was a penguin, a little ball of wobbliness flattened on the broom as if he was sliding down hills of ice. Her mouth quirked in a smile, sweat slipping down the sides of her face, cooled only a little by her flight, the entirety of the two teams creating a force of wind both hot and cold. Less than a minute in possession of the Quaffle, Renée swerved to avoid an Aladren Chaser and raised her arm in the same second, pulling back and then her arm shot out, clenched fingers releasing, the Quaffle flying with barely an arch in its direct throw toward one of the other Crotalus chasers. The summer had been partially spent discovering archery; her muscles tightening with the strain of pulling the string of the bow back, releasing once she’d gotten her weapon steady, the arrow shooting out with a straight aim, an audible twat once it struck and sank into its target.

She steadied on her broom and kept flying, nearing the midpoint line of the pitch, squinting through the sun, to see where her Quaffle - she meant the Quaffle - had gotten to. Her vision of a red orb was steadily filling with more images; Marissa catching the snitch, its silver wings beating hopelessly against her enclosed fist, the new beaters Topher and Gareth hitting bludgers that struck the beating hearts of certain individual Aladrens, and a vision of Nic needlessly guarding the Crotalus goals because his chasers were successfully keeping the Quaffle on Aladren’s side of the pitch. For once she took the time to, in her own private way, wish the rest of the team well. There may not be much camaraderie, but they did share something in common with one another. They shared the team. Through the heated rays of the sun, Renée caught sight of where the Quaffle was and bent forward on her broom, flying faster, following its lead, visions dissolving until she only saw the red orb once more.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Quaffle, Snitch, and Game for Crotalus 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Capt. Stephenson, Seeker

December 16, 2011 6:25 PM

Here we go again. by Capt. Stephenson, Seeker

On the bright side, Daniel Nash was gone.

On the not-so-bright side, Arnold and Edmond Carey were not, and they had been nine-tenths of the problem all along anyway. Even if the team had dissolved into complete disorder under Edmond’s command, which Marissa doubted, the little one would still probably be able to do what he’d been doing for two years, and the big one would not have forgotten that things had been partially settled by him Bludgering her at strategic moments in the Final.

The Final – not the first game. Marissa usually won the first game, walking pretty easily over Teppenpaw or Pecari, and then lost the final, but at least she got there. She did not know what Coach Pierce was thinking, putting Crotalus and Aladren against each other in the first game. With both of them acutely aware of how far they stood to fall by coming in last place if they lost today, she couldn’t see a way where this match did not end in extreme and graphic violence, and this in a new medic’s first year. She was pretty sure he had not signed up fully aware of how nasty these things could get between Crotalus and Aladren, and wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the poor guy was terrified into quitting immediately after he finished cleaning up after this.

She remembered, though, all the nice things she’d ever heard about how she didn’t quit and smiled at the team as she gathered them up, as though she had every confidence in a quick and easy victory. “Okay, everyone,” she said cheerfully. “I know we weren’t expecting Aladren first, but that doesn’t change anything. You all know what you’re supposed to do, so…go do it.”

They had an advantage in numbers, anyway. If she got knocked out before the final moments of the game, then maybe Cepheus would have better luck, if they were allowed to change out. She thought of that as she smiled, too, at Edmond as they shook hands. He usually seemed very pleasant when he wasn’t trying to kill her, and he seemed to have no more inclination to try to do that in everyday life than anyone else did, so she wasn’t going to be unnecessarily unpleasant. Enmity didn’t begin until the game did.

“Promise to cheer for me at the Finals?” she asked lightly.

When the whistle blew, she silently wished her Chasers luck once more and then promptly forgot about them. Her task was to pay attention to the Snitch, the Bludgers, and the Arnold. The only way she’d look in on their affairs was if something happened that required a time-out, or if she happened to look down at a certain moment and find them in her line of sight instead of the Snitch, or if she had to weave through them to get to the Snitch; otherwise, with Aladren on the Pitch, she didn’t have the time or attention to spare for anything else. Her whole heart and mind had to be on winning, or she would lose. This was fact.

With that fact in mind, she began making long sweeps of the Pitch, never pausing long as a basic precaution, keeping an eye on any figures not in the main mass of Chasers playing around the Quaffle, and looking for the Snitch. Truthfully, there wasn’t much of her mind left to think of anything else; this was dividing her attention about as far as it would go, though she knew it would have to go further eventually. She didn’t expect to be left in such peace for very long.

16 Capt. Stephenson, Seeker Here we go again. 147 Capt. Stephenson, Seeker 0 5

Kitty McLevy - Chaser

December 16, 2011 6:40 PM

You’ll have to do better than that! by Kitty McLevy - Chaser

Anyone looking at the tiny girl bundled up in her bright blue Aladren robes, a bit bulky due to the sweater she’d put underneath, skipping down the hall ways might have smiled and thought the girl was off to watch a beloved brother play the fine sport of Quidditch. Every third or fourth step was accompanied by a small gleeful sort of sound that caused those who passed to give her odd looks. Finally! Finally she would get to truly play the game that had captured her heart and soul. Today was vital more so than her first year and protecting the goals from both Pecari in their first game and finally against Crotalus in the finals. No, this game was different, it was the defining game of the season and it would determine who got to play again. And Kitty desperately wanted to play again, to win again, to remain on the top of the heap with her team as number one.

The two slices of French toast, three strips of bacon, two sausage links, and a large glass of orange juice sat comfortably in her middle. Somehow, this time, unlike her first game she felt wonderful. Each step barely seemed to touch the floor, Kitty was sure that if her joy were any greater gravity would have failed its task completely and she would have flown free without the aid of a broom. The pitch appeared under a sunshine drenched sky, so bright that it almost didn’t feel real and only added to her euphoria. Brilliant blue, the exact shade of her eyes filled the vast expanse of the sky begging her to shake off gravity and dive into it.

No…not yet, not yet! But soon, so soon she would be able to dart into the sky and take the win that was hers (theirs). Aladren would be victorious once more, there wasn’t any doubt to be had on that account. First, the formalities, speeches given but not heard the call of the sky drowned out Edmond’s words no matter how much she tried to focus on them, and hands were shaken before finally TWEET!

Kitty shot up into the sky, almost but not quite able to reach the Quaffle first. Sky eyes narrowed as she dropped back and down. Like her name sake Kitty waited in the crimson shadow of the enemy waiting as patiently as a cat at a mouse hole. Her small lithe form, perhaps better for seeking than anything else but she would force it to bend well to the task of chasing, hid easily in the blind spot of the chaser above her. Wait…just wait, breath and watch…soon, soon….NOW!

The Quaffle had just left the crimson robe’s hand and Kitty leapt, darting out of her hidden place and pounced on the red prey. Reaching out she snatched the red ball out of the sky and tucked it neatly under her arm. For an instant all Kitty could do was revel in the red leather. I caught it! Omygod I caught it! I caught it I cau…oh Shoot! She was brought out of her happy daze by the loud crack of bat on bludger and the sight of the black ball shooting straight at her made the tiny girl squeak in fear before darting away. Before the evil ball could lock on her Kitty tried a tactic she’d been playing with during try outs. Instead of trying to out run the ball she put as many red robes between her and it as she could. Seeing that she’d gotten the thing’s attention off of her Kitty looked around and quickly passed off the Quaffle to the first blue robe she saw.

0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser You’ll have to do better than that! 0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser

December 16, 2011 6:55 PM

Much, much better. by Russell Layne, Chaser

Russell wasn’t as optimistic as he might have been against either of the teams he wasn’t playing, but really, being put up against Crotalus first didn’t bother him. Aladren had played Crotalus when it really counted, in the Final, in both of the years he’d been at the school and on the team, and both times, Aladren had prevailed. Now, with a new captain who wasn’t a Chaser and the old one’s replacement a second year, he was expecting his part of the game to be a lot easier than usual, and Arnold’s not to be any harder, anyway, with one of the Crotalus Beaters a first year. So he was still pretty optimistic.

Optimistic, but still not totally sure about Kitty. She was energetic, and that was great, but he was kind of worried about her going off on her own instead of working as a unit with him and Arthur, the way they had with Daniel, and that might mess things up. Renée Errant was wild like that, and she got the Quaffle plenty, but because she didn’t work with her people, Aladren usually got it back fast. Russell would take someone calm and steady over a crazy one any day.

Still, she’d been practicing with them, and as weird as it was, out here, anyway, he completely trusted Arthur. He never knew quite what to think of him, despite the Chaser thing making him the Carey twin Russell spent more time with, off the Pitch, but on it, their goals and aspirations were identical, and it worked, and that was all that really mattered on game day. That, and the Beaters doing their part, but here, he trusted Preston and Edmond, too. They might not be able to get him and Arthur and Kitty and David out of every tight spot, but he was confident they’d do their best, and that if they didn’t even try, it would probably be because Arnold was also in trouble and Arnold always came first. The new guy, whose name Russell had to consciously remind himself to say in full all the time because it was just awkwardly long, was all well and good, but the Seeker who’d never lost them a match had to take priority over everyone else on the field. Russell got that.

Though, as Edmond and the coach gave their speeches, he did find himself feeling after all that it was a little more urgent than usual that this not be the first match Arnold lost. To go from the unquestioned champions of two seasons running to last place, the first team knocked out of the running, would be…bad. He’d live, there were far worse things which could happen in a day or even a whole year, but it would still be bad.

The whistle blew, and they were all up, and Renée Errant got to it first. Russell followed her, listening for the Bludgers and mostly watching her hands, though trying to remain aware of where the other Crotalus and Aladren Chasers were lurking, too, just to be safe.

He saw that she was about to pass, or he thought she was, and he went for it, speeding up to be in place to intercept – only to discover he’d moved too fast, she’d seen him, and now she was going the other way.

Russell made a face, but rose higher to see what was going on with the ball. He wasn’t Quidditch-crazy yet, which meant he could still think logically, which meant he knew there was probably – almost certainly – plenty of time left in which to get his hands on the Quaffle. If he had lost his chance to contribute to Aladren’s victory over one move immediately after the start of the game, then it was a freak chance in a million and he’d be impressed enough by that to not even mind too much even if he did get crazy by the end of it. Which was a given if this went on more than ten minutes. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, at this point, what it was this game did to people’s heads; it just seemed like knowledge man wasn’t meant to have.

Oh, Kitty had the ball. He dropped back down to cover her, sure the Crotali weren't going to like having the new Aladren Chaser snatch something out of one of their players' hands, went forward as she went forward even as he came back down, and was in place to complete the pass she started.

He smiled as the Quaffle came into his hands, starting to feel a little more energized after the race away from the Bludger and having the ball in Aladren's possession now two plays in a row. Yeah, the game was definitely not over. Keeping his mind on the goal of Nic Sawyer, he moved on for a while, then made a short pass to another blue robe.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser Much, much better. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

December 16, 2011 7:55 PM

Try this on for size by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

Gareth felt painfully ill. After only three small bites of his oatmeal he realized that eating was out of the question unless he wanted his breakfast to make a pitiful reappearance in the very near future. From them moment he’d seen his name not in the reserve section, but under the actual team, Gareth had felt the nervousness building in his chest. He truly hadn’t expected to be chosen for first string, and had been more than half tempted to speak to the Captain and ask to trade places with Cepheus, but pride kept him silent.

Cepheus, that was another problem Gareth wasn’t sure how to deal with. He’d known how much his roommate wanted a position on the team and how angry the other boy was after he saw Gareth had made it and he hadn’t. It almost felt like he’d stolen the potion from Cepheus, and he’d started avoiding his roommate as much as possible while still sharing the same room. He just didn’t know what to say to make the situation better so he ended up saying nothing at all.

A hard ball of ice had taken the place of his stomach and it was a heavy weight under his ribs. His nerves weren’t helped in the slightest by the thought that they wouldn’t be playing one of the two easier teams, no they’d be facing Aladren right of the bat. Light blue eyes quickly scanned the other team as he took his place among the Crotalus players. Thank Merlin they didn’t put Thad in as keeper Gareth gave a small sigh of relief, after seeing the other first years crazy antics during flying lessons he didn’t want to see what the boy would do in a real game.

It wasn’t just the flying that contributed to Gareth’s nerves, too late to do any good Gareth realized that the sight of the crowd watching their every move made him want to pass out to escape all those watching, judging eyes. Stage fright, how pitiful Gareth sneered at himself. Was it not bad enough that he was afraid of flying? Apparently not, with a shaky breath Gareth mounted and hid his fears behind a mask of Pureblooded indifference.

The ground fell away at a dizzying speed as Gareth kicked off with the rest of the team. Long years of practice kept his eyes level with the playing field and not on the ground fading down. The bludgers, that was all he had to worry about during this game, not the Quaffle, nor the Snitch, or guarding the hoops, just the bludgers. And, apparently the sun. Gareth flinched slightly as he got a face full of the blindingly bright light, ruining his vision for a handful of moments.

Still flying, Gareth blinked the sun spots out of his eyes, and just managed to catch the small blue chaser snatching the Quaffle. One of the black spots in his vision veered erratically towards him and Gareth almost had the deep embarrassment of being knocked off his broom before the game had even really gotten under way. Instinctually he swung the bat hard CRACK the ball flew towards the small blue chaser more out of luck than design, so when it failed to hit her he didn’t feel too put out by it. Not that such an itty bitty target would be easy to hit in any case, good thing she isn’t the seeker Gareth thought as he zipped forward, spying another free bludger. This time he was able to aim and with another powerful swing and CRACK the black ball shot off towards one of the blue garbed players.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater Try this on for size 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Captain Carey, Beater

December 17, 2011 8:56 PM

I'm afraid I'd rather he didn't by Captain Carey, Beater

Edmond felt nervous about the game, but that emotion had been sternly pushed down and detached, so it felt as though he were thinking about someone else being anxious instead of being the one who was anxious. It wasn’t as though he thought he had a very good reason to be worried; it was the rest of the team, minus Preston, which didn’t have bats and would be in the way of what those bats hit for the rest of the game. He just had to keep Arnold in the air long enough to catch the Snitch and take down any Crotali who presented themselves in his spare time. There could be an art to Beating at some levels of play, but when they were against Crotalus, it was usually very straightforward, a matter of timing and force.

Though, it shouldn’t have been Crotalus yet, not when they had beaten Crotalus in the Final last year. He had thought they would be up against Teppenpaw again, back on that point of the cycle, but it seemed Coach Pierce had different ideas. He supposed she was tired of having the same thing happen year after year, so he supposed whoever won this game today would face Teppenpaw in the finals, unless something had changed for Pecari.

“Well,” he said to Kitty and the boys once it was clear that he really couldn’t put off saying something much longer, hoping fervently that everything Julia had ever taught him for hiding his slight discomfort with speaking to people was working, “Here we are. Crotalus again.

“Russell, Arthur, Kitty, we’re all familiar with Mr. Bauer and Miss Errant – particularly Miss Errant – but keep an eye on their new Chaser, don’t give them an inch or an opening you can help. You know what to do. Preston and I will have to keep an eye on their new Beater as well, but our old friend Mr. Calhoun is formidable enough that you all need to stay alert.” This with a particularly pointed look for Arnold, who smiled in what he seemed to think was a winning, ‘what, me?’ way. Edmond moved on without further comment. “Arnold, you know your business, just remember that this is Miss Stephenson’s last game if she doesn’t win, so she might be more aggressive than usual. Thaddeus, just be ready.”

He looked around at everyone individually. “If I were a betting man,” he said, “I would wager that we are going to win this game. But I’m not, and the fact that we’ve beaten them before doesn’t necessarily mean we will again. Don’t get overconfident. Just play as cleanly and well as you can and let’s keep that trophy buried under the paperwork in Professor Fawcett’s office. Good luck, everyone.”

He inclined his head and, out of reflex because he was just enough on edge to not notice himself doing that sort of thing, only just caught himself short of bowing over Marissa’s hand when she presented it to him and laughed at her comment. “Certainly,” he said, and then, once they parted, listened politely to Coach Pierce running through the rules, hearing nothing he didn’t expect. Then she blew the whistle, and there was a momentary confusion of blue robes and red robes and broom straws and air, and then the game was on.

He noticed at once that his Chasers were not suffering as badly as he had feared they might from the loss of Daniel, and almost as soon that the new Crotalus Beater wasn’t as bad at what he did as he might have hoped. Indeed, he seemed to have a knack for it, nearly hitting Kitty right away and then trying again as she moved down the Pitch with the Quaffle. Edmond didn’t have to think much, just react, which he did, flying to redirect the Bludger toward one of the Crotalus players with, he imagined, more force than it had first been sent toward an Aladren as he hoped Preston was in control of the other Bludger.

With that thought in mind, he went after the one he’d hit, hoping to make sure it didn't head back toward an Aladren as soon as the result of his first play of the game was made apparent, whether it worked, was dodged, or was deflected by one of the Crotalus Beaters. See-hit-move-hit, that was the pattern; if the game didn’t go on very long, he could keep doing that for some time, though not at full tilt the whole time. The real challenge of this was figuring out how much he could do without exceeding his endurance and being right.

On the way after the Bludger, he looked up to make sure Arnold wasn’t in too much trouble, but he seemed not to be at the moment. Merlin only knew how long that would last, but he’d take advantage of as long as he could get. Things seemed to get nasty very quickly once he found it necessary to get involved with the Seeker game.

0 Captain Carey, Beater I'm afraid I'd rather he didn't 0 Captain Carey, Beater 0 5

Kitty McLevy - Chaser

December 17, 2011 11:29 PM

Keeping things moving our way by Kitty McLevy - Chaser

After passing off the Quaffle to Russell, Kitty was startled to hear yet another CRACK. Bright blue eyes widened as she saw the dark black ball zooming back towards her and Russell. Before it could reach them Edmond appeared in its path and Kitty couldn’t hold back the grin that blazed across her lips as he effortlessly deflected the murderous ball. For a second she just watched as the black ball shot away with a speed she knew would seriously hurt if it happened to actually hit someone. Kitty was glad that Edmond was on her side so that she didn’t have to worry about him ever targeting her.

Kitty never thought about actually being hit by a bludger before, and she couldn’t help feeling the tingle of excitement at the thought of being a target. It added a higher level of danger to the game that she hadn’t felt when playing Keeper. Yes, Keeper was one of the positions that beaters usually targeted but not a single bludger had come her way last term. Even if one had Kitty was sure that Edmond or Preston would have deflected it long before it reached her. But as a chaser she was far more exposed and judging by the start of the game she was most certainly a target. For other people that might have worried them, but to Kitty it just gave the game a bit more spice.

The sound of bat on bludger had caused Kitty to veer a bit off course but it only took a small shift of her weight to bring her back in line with Russell. She wanted to keep the Quaffle out of Crotalus hands and deeper into Crotalus territory. Every nerve ending was alive, all her senses focused on the red orb that her hands itched to catch again. This was amazing, so much better than she’d imagined it could be and Kitty laughed, the bell like sound was quickly lost in the rushing wind as she flew fast.

A flash of red, and Kitty reached out the hard leather smacked pleasantly into her palms giving them a slight sting. Another smile tugged her lips up as she tucked the ball into her chest and darted further down the pitch. It was tempting to close the distance between her and the goals and make a shot, but the distance was too great for a single run, she would be too exposed. After halving the length Kitty glanced around for another blue robe to pass to. Seeing one the ball flew, her aim slightly off due to the sun glare.

0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser Keeping things moving our way 0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser

December 18, 2011 4:28 PM

...Darn you, authorial coin-toss. by Sam Bauer, Chaser

Sam still thought he could feel some of the strains and bruises from the last time they’d played Aladren, but he guessed that was between him and his brain and not much of a matter of concern for the Sonora Quidditch program, so he ignored that and focused on how this year, they were going to be carrying all those Aladren boys off the Pitch on stretchers at the end of the match.

This game, as far as he was concerned, was about no less than the struggle between Good and Evil. Good, obviously, was the Crotalus team – a mixture of blood types and economic statuses, with two girls, one of them the Muggleborn captain – while the Aladren team was the elitist Evil, with their token girl just a front to keep the wide world from noticing how they were, and not a very effective one at that. It was perhaps funny that Crotalus was supposed to be the House that was about proper society and part of the reason he felt weird when he noticed his badges was that the vast majority of the Crotalus leadership structure and all of its Quidditch captains for as long as he could remember had been girls, but he could casually chalk that up to a deliberate smear campaign by the Aladren menace. And ignore the presence of plenty of girls who did live up to the reputations of those girls of years past who’d made the House a byword for plotting and drama.

Well, not really. Really, he was perfectly aware that he was running an increasingly ridiculous internal narrative, building on each funny supposition, to distract himself from being anxious about their prospects or getting gloomy about the likelihood of getting hit with a Bludger again, but it was working and that was all he cared about. Going into this thinking right was as important as anything else, and if that meant thinking of Edmond Carey as Darth Vader, then he’d do that.

He wasn’t sure what Marissa was thinking, but whatever it was, she wasn’t long-winded about it, which he appreciated. Coach Pierce wasn’t quite as good about it, but then, there were Gareth and Linus to consider, as well as the new Aladren alternate, the one who – well, now that he looked at the guy, could totally pass for Coach Pierce’s son or something, though he told himself firmly that he was letting his inclination toward conspiracy theories, greatly increased by events of the past few years, get out of hand there. Then, though, there wasn’t much more time for thinking about players as individuals or alternates or relatives or anything else, because the game was on and Crotalus was in possession….

…For about fifteen seconds. Then Aladren got it and, despite a valiant effort on Gareth’s part, kept it. Sam thought he came close to having an opening to intercept, but then Edmond swept in after the second Bludger and Sam decided to lose his chance rather than risk the possibility that the big Aladren was having a bad day which would result in him losing his head instead, the way Nic nearly had two years ago. Immediately, however, he began to look for another, searching first for who had the Quaffle and then for room where he might be useful in getting it or keeping it in Crotalus possession. Crotalus was good, once they had the ball; it was just getting and keeping it that could be a problem against Aladren, which often made up for lack of skill with sheer crazy, especially early in a game.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser ...Darn you, authorial coin-toss. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser

December 18, 2011 5:14 PM

Continuing on in the right way by Arthur Carey, Chaser

There was, as far as Arthur could see, no reason on earth why Aladren should lose this game.

It wasn’t so much that Aladren had advantages they had not before – they didn’t – as Crotalus was weaker than it had been. The captain was now the Seeker, so she wasn’t as much of a figure for them to form around as Charlotte Abbott had been. The new Chaser was a second year who hadn’t played last year and Arthur did think he’d observed last year as someone who didn’t get on very well with others; when he was sure that Samuel Bauer just didn’t impress Renee Errant to the extent that Charlotte had, he couldn’t imagine the Chasing team worked in any sort of harmony anymore. They had two reserves, which was helpful, but their new Beater was a first year, and they still had the same Keeper they’d had for the past two years at least, who’d failed to seriously impress Arthur in all that time that he could recall. Aladren, on the other hand, had only lost one player, so their team was more or less as strong as it had ever been, and if their Seeker might have lost a few more of his very few brain cells over the summer, it didn’t seem to be affecting him much. Clearly, they were in the stronger position here.

And yet, Arthur felt like they might have to work for it today. Since the only things he’d had to really work for in ages were keeping up with his notes on people and trying to teach himself Icelandic, that thought wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but he thought his face was probably still a hair too blank as he listened to Edmond’s opening remarks and then to the coach reiterating the rules for the new players. As Renee ran away with the Quaffle, he shrugged slightly before following her.

Katrina and Russell took her sides, so Arthur descended, flying lower to cut off any attempt she might make to toss the Quaffle down to another Crotalus, or take the other Crotali down away from the Aladrens with her, but this time, it didn’t happen that way, and Katrina soon had the Quaffle, and Arthur had to move as a Bludger meant for her almost hit him as he came back up. He left the second Bludger to Edmond, rejoining his fellows as Katrina passed to Russell, then he passed back to her, then –

There! Katrina's aim had been off, and for a moment he'd thought he'd miss it and it would fall, but not so again. Arthur took his hands off his broom and leaned out to snatch the Quaffle from the air, securing it against any attempts by the Crotali, and then wrapped his left arm around it to keep it safe while he used the other to make sure he didn’t do some foolish thing like fall off while flying at a high speed. He covered most of the remaining distance to Mr. Sawyer before he made what he hoped would be the final pass before the first goal, aiming for the nearest blue robe to him and slipping far enough away from the rationality he sometimes prized to wish the ball something as silly as luck – of the Aladren kind, of course; obviously the other team would have a different definition of the term – while it was in the air.

Well, he had read something last year, something French, he thought, about how everyone believed in higher powers when they needed them for something. He wouldn’t call this a ‘need,’ if Crotalus got it they would get it back quickly and that would be all, but it would be nice for them to score so neatly. Besides, much more intelligent and educated people than he had believed in luck before.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser Continuing on in the right way 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

December 18, 2011 5:23 PM

And again, and again, and again by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Arnold wasn’t sure why they were playing against Crotalus again when they had just beaten them, but he didn’t really care. One opposing Seeker and set of opposing Beaters was much the same as another to him, and most of his mind was already on moves he’d like to try and speculating about how many people would fall off their brooms this time and, of course, the victory party that was to come after they got out of here later.

In the midst of all this, he noticed that Arthur was looking stoic even for him, but dismissed that as the light not being good. Arthur was determined to be as dour as possible as often as Arnold couldn’t trick him into not being; to him, it was most likely a total disaster, or seemed like one right now. He’d cheer up after the game, though, there was no helping it. There was nothing quite like winning, and it was especially great against Crotalus, since their Seeker was so much older and sometimes their Beaters could even put up a good fight. Though really, Beaters were the one area every House seemed to do okay in, at least from where he was flying.

People thought he didn’t notice that, enough that he was pretty sure Edmond’s thoughts on that topic were directed all at him, but he did. It didn’t bother him much even so, but since that Charms lesson, he could see why it might bother other people to see it, so he thought he’d at least try to be careful.

‘Try’ being the operative word. He hadn’t thought about it being Marissa’s last game, but Topher did come to mind with suspicious ease once he was mentioned, and Arnold knew he was the last person who should doubt that a first year player could be unexpectedly good. Admittedly, it didn’t seem as likely with a Beater as a Seeker just because Beaters were supposed to be big guys like Edmond, but it was possible even there. He wasn’t about to argue against that. A tiny part of the back of his mind was still worried that he wasn’t going to be any good any more now that he was enough older that he was in the intermediate classes, the one sour note in his overall satisfaction about being older and a little taller.

He was still, though, shorter than Marissa, and his broom was still, he thought at a glance, probably better than hers, so overall, he thought he still had the advantage. When the whistle blew, he rose into the air, happy to be back in it, and soon flew across in front of her just to see if he could and not crash, laughing to himself when it turned out he could. The Snitch was nowhere in sight, neither were the Bludgers and the Beaters, so this was as much time to just have fun in as he was going to get in the game, he guessed.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker And again, and again, and again 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

David Wilkes, Keeper

December 18, 2011 8:46 PM

Commenting from my new position. by David Wilkes, Keeper

At his end of the Pitch, David was completely unaware of the thing that, to most people, made Keeper a less-than-desirable, or at least less desirable, position. Perched up on his broom in front of the goals, watching the action unfold at more or less eye level, he was enjoying watching the game more than he ever had before, and running his commentary with an enthusiasm to match.

“Right off, right off Crotalus has the ball…they’re heading for Wilkes,” he’d started out, using the persona of the commentator to ignore the lump of anxiety in his stomach about this fact. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be the guy Renée Errant took a shot at – or any of those guys, really. Stupid, when his team was the undisputed winner of every game it had played in recently and he’d held the goals against the boys in blue often enough, but there it was anyway. “Layne comes up, looking for the intercept while Carey covers the bottom, but Errant’s on to him – but not on to McLevy! You go, McLevy, you move it back that way, y’hear?”

Maybe just a little of David Wilkes slipped in at that part, but he ignored it, clapping loudly as the ball moved away from him again in Kitty’s capable hands. “She’s making a clever play, putting the Crotali between herself and the Bludgers – and Carey, sorry, the Captain Carey is helping in that endeavor! Great job, Edmond, great job, your snob relatives would be proud of you today.” He hadn’t been speaking loudly, but his voice dropped lower at that. He did have, after all, some sense of self-preservation. “And the ball’s to Layne…now back to McLevy, no sign of Crotalus interference, the guys and gal in red had better pick up or go home, I’m telling you, folks. Oh…there goes Assistant Captain Bauer for Crotalus, run off by a Bludger, very nice job Edmond. Ball’s to…one of the guys, not sure which, might be the first Carey I mentioned….”

He squinted, trying to see what was going on. “Meanwhile, Seeker Carey is taunting Stephenson, that seems to work for him pretty well…and the guy who might be his twin brother is making a run for the goal! …Except he’s not, he’s passing, he’s passing again, folks…Go, little blue dudes! Go little blue dudes!”

He realized he was almost cheering pretty loudly and stopped before he started attracting weird looks from the Coach and fans, if he wasn’t already. Mumbling to himself was one thing, but getting crazy about stuff happening at completely the other end of the Pitch was a little much. He would rather not earn a reputation as that kind of crazy Aladren. Well, honestly he’d rather not be known as crazy at all, but if he had to be, not like that. There was, after all, crazy, and then there was crazy. Better to be thought of as achievement-crazy than just wacko, he guessed, if one’s sanity had to be questioned.

16 David Wilkes, Keeper Commenting from my new position. 169 David Wilkes, Keeper 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

December 18, 2011 9:52 PM

Seeking things that shine...or pretending to. by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

Very abruptly, there was something flying across her field of vision, coming close enough that Marissa instinctively used the hand on her broom to turn it away before she even thought, though it – he – was out of the way before she could get turned, or more than start to drop lower in the air. It was all Marissa could do not to curse roundly enough to almost impress Charlie, if she’d been there. She had known she wouldn’t be left in peace for very long.

After the past two years of playing against each other, and watching him play in other games, Marissa had observed what she thought was a tendency in Arnold toward wanting to show off. She guessed she could understand it. He was a Carey, which she’d figured out meant he’d probably had money, status, and all the privileges that went with them since birth, he had a fast broom and good luck and he’d never lost between the two. It made her feel like an old lady to think it, when she was seventeen and should have had no idea thirteen-year-olds even existed, but he was young and cocky, and there had to be some way she could use that to her advantage.

For now, she flew in a medium-length arc, coming back around to where she was sure he could see her, and then looked down and dove suddenly, as though going for the Snitch this early in the game. Which she would, if she saw it, and hang if anyone had a good time, because she’d rather not wake up in the hospital wing to watch the other seven or eight people injured in the game being carried in after her because she’d let it go, but right now, she was just hoping he’d follow her blindly, get caught up in the rush of it all, and hopefully plow face-first into the ground while trying to outrun her.

Maybe it wasn’t too likely, since Wronski Feints seldom worked, but it was worth a try. She narrowed her eyes as she went down, adjusting her flight path a little as though for the darting of the Snitch, her concentration genuine now. It needed concentration to make sure that she didn’t make herself the laughingstock of Sonora by being the one to crash in a Feint that she’d initiated. That would be beyond embarrassing any time, but the only way it could have been worse here was if it had been in another Final, or was directly the reason for their loss.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker Seeking things that shine...or pretending to. 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

December 18, 2011 10:21 PM

Aiding your search by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

His second shot was not dodged as the first had been. This time the large Aladren Captain came between the bludger and its intended target. Gareth’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as his competitive streak began to overwhelm his anxiety. While he might not have preferred being part of the team, now that he was he wanted to see Crotalus find victory which had been snatched away by this team for too many years in a row. His fear of flying retreated to a dull thrumming in the back of his thoughts, a droning undertone that could be ignored at a cost. The headache he knew would develop over the course of the game would be blinding by the time all was said and done, but it was worth it to keep his focus on the game and not an unreasonable fear.

While the chasers were targets it was the seekers who were the important ones to take out. Aladren had one alternate, and if he could take out the current seeker (the one who’d won the game for Aladren so often) then the new kid would be even easier to deal with. Light blue eyes began scanning the sky taking careful note of where the other team’s beaters were, where the bludgers lingered, and of course where his new target was located. His gaze was caught on blue and red, the two seekers were close together, the blue had cut off his Captain and Gareth’s eyes narrowed further as he flew closer.

Having been blinded once by the overly bright light coming from the east Gareth decided to use it to his advantage and kept the sun at his back as he lingered on the eastern edge of the playing arena. He moved swiftly searching for one of the hard murderous balls to aim at the Aladren Seeker once his own Seeker was far enough out of the way that he wouldn’t risk striking her in error. He closed some of the distance between him and the seekers to improve the accuracy of his strike when he made it.

One of the hard black balls shot out of the brilliant blue, targeting him seems he was far enough away from the other players that it had no other to focus on. A grim smile touched his lips as he saw his Captain begin a dive, weather she saw the snitch or not it gave him the opening he needed, and if she did have the small golden ball in her sights this would increase her odds of capturing it first. His bat lashed out with a resounding CRACK! The streak of black shot at the small blue robed figure and Gareth gave a slight nod. Even if the other started to dive as well odds were better than fair the ball would lock on him.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater Aiding your search 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser

December 18, 2011 11:25 PM

I won the coin toss and all I got was... by Russell Layne, Chaser

When Kitty caught the pass, Russell breathed a little easier. For a second. Then it was right back into the game. They were well into Crotalus’ territory now, but there still wasn’t really time to be relieved in the game. That would get him distracted, and then he’d miss something. And while he still remembered that this would not be the end of the world, he was starting to lose that sense. A mistake didn’t seem nearly as permissible, as unimportant in the big scheme of things, as it had only moments ago.

Kitty ran with it, him and Arthur along for the ride in case she wanted to pass again, and when she did, it was to Arthur. Russell rearranged so that he’d be in place if Arthur wanted to pass one more time, but didn’t expect him to do it until he actually did, and then the ball was back in Russell’s hands without very much distance left between him and the goals.

Okay. He had to get to the goals, preferably without getting hit by any Bludgers, though he thought he was – comparatively – safe right this second. He didn’t hear anything whistling in his immediate vicinity, no cracks of bat against Bludger, nothing ominous except just the awareness that the bats and Beaters and Bludgers were out there, along with all the other bodies on the Pitch, which was good, but they could appear at any second, so he wasn’t going to waste any time in making himself less of a target as well as hopefully putting ten points on the board for his team.

Getting to the goals, he moved toward the left hoop before reversing and, praying there was no one behind him to crash into, went backward as fast as he thought he could control the broom before throwing it at an angle toward the right hoop. The gesture wasn’t as smooth as he’d hoped it would be, he had a little more trouble making his elbows go where he’d wanted them to go than he’d expected, much less wanted, to, but he thought it ended up going smoothly enough.

Now he just had to see if it, from the shot itself to his speed in moving, was good enough to get it through the hoop before Nic Sawyer could make it there to stop it from doing that or it just lost momentum and fell down. He wasn't sure which would be worse and was so hoping for neither.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser I won the coin toss and all I got was... 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Preston S., Beater

December 19, 2011 2:23 AM

Poom.Poom.Poom. by Preston S., Beater

It was weird for the third-year to play his first game against Crotalus. Crotalus! Since he started playing Quidditch the final had been between those two houses. It would be weird to play it again against someone else. The redhead was sure they were going to win, they always did. The Aladren team was better than Crotalus and the other two. Preston was of the idea that his house team was way better than the rest of the teams. It was obvious; they had a lot of house cups to show for that. He liked being part of the winning team; he loved being part of it. He was grateful to Daniel for introducing him to the game like he had. If it hadn’t been for his former captain, he would have stayed away from the pitch.

This was the first game with Edmond as Captain. So far the practices had been going okay and he didn’t have any comment on them and Edmond’s strategies. Not that he was in a position to give his opinion on Edmond’s captaining skills. The older boy was huge and intimidating, and Preston preferred to stay on his good graces. The loser of this match would be competing for third place, which was something Preston didn’t want to do. It was first or nothing for the redhead.

It was a good day to play Quidditch. He was ready for this; he had been ready for the last two years. This game was different, though. The two teams were not going to battle for supremacy, they were battling for the right to pass to the next round, which was somewhat insulting, really. However, he was all for equality and opportunities and all that. Not really, but it made him feel better to some level. It was just unnatural!

Preston zoomed right into the game the second the whistle blew. They were going to win this! He left the Chasers to do their work and instead of paying attention to their flying he went directly to the task at hand: make their flying environment safe. He needed to do his work. Otherwise, their plays could be thwarted by the opposing team. The third-year beater spotted one of the bludgers flying near him. He smiled to himself and smacked it towards an opposing chaser. The sound that came from the bat colliding with the ball sent a shot of adrenaline through his veins.

0 Preston S., Beater Poom.Poom.Poom. 0 Preston S., Beater 0 5

Nic Sawyer, Keeper

December 19, 2011 12:20 PM

Chasers, you're supposed to be on the other side by Nic Sawyer, Keeper

At fifteen years old - almost sixteen - Nic Sawyer was starting to lose some of his early adolescent awkardness. He hadn't walked into a wall in months, he was starting to get a little meat on his bones, and he was starting to reach a point where his body looked proportionally normal. Tall, certainly, he now stood at six foot three; but his hands and feet no longer looked oversized compared to the rest of him and his mass was no longer solely confined to his skeleton. When he flexed, he could almost make out muscle bulges instead of just scrawny arms. His doctor said there could still be a couple inches lurking inside of him, but the vast majority of his growth spurts were over and done with. Now his body could work on filling out his height a little more.

Already, Nic had seen significant improvement from the change in how his body was developing. He wasn't as clumsy, he felt stronger, and oddly, happier. For the first time, he didn't look in a mirror and see a skinny too-tall kid, but a young man. He was even shaving now. As much as he didn't like the implications of fifth year and of growing up, he did kind of like where his looks were going now. Unless he dyed his medium brown hair, he doubted he'd ever be called dark, but he was starting to think he might almost be able to claim the final adjective in Tall Dark and Handsome before too much longer. Two out of three wasn't bad.

His improved self-confidence and his increased control over his limbs had also translated into a vast improvement in his Keeper skills. He still wasn't the best keeper the school had ever seen or even the best Keeper playing this year, but he certainly wasn't the hopeless case he'd been when Charlie had stuck a body in front of the goals and hoped it was better than not having a Keeper at all. He'd earned his spot back even with competition. In practice, these last weeks, he'd even saved a fair number of shots thrown by Renee Errant and Sam Bauer, who were two of the school's top Chasers. He didn't stop all of them, of course, but they had to work for their practice goals more than they had in years.

Still, he kind of wished he wasn't up against Aladren right off the starting blocks. He didn't think they were any better than Sam and Renee, but they weren't much worse either. Of course, they'd lost Daniel Nash, so they weren't quite as terrifying as they had been last year. It looked like they'd replaced their former captain with last year's tiny Keeper. He was kind of glad the little girl wasn't Keepering again. That had been kind of insulting. At least Wilkes' wingspan was more than half of Nic's, and the Aladren team wasn't suggesting that a kid the size of a dust mite could protect their goals as well as Nic could Crotalus's.

The whistle blew and Nic headed one direction while Renee and the Quaffle headed the other. He was glad of that reprieve, that he wouldn't have to outrun the Quaffle up to his goals, but when he reached them and turned around, he discovered that the respite had been short lived. The red ball leaped from blue robe to blue robe until it was right up in his face. He thought for a second the Carey Chaser would be taking the shot but then he threw it over to the Layne Chaser who almost went for the goal to Nic's right but then changed his mind after Nic had started moving that way. There was time, barely, to change directions as Layne backed up, and if Nic's arm been even half an inch shorter, he wouldn't have made it, but he leaned his body as far over that direction as he could, extended an arm that went on for approximately two miles, and brushed his fingertips across the ball, diverting it downwards and knocking it just enough off course that it hit the post instead of passing through the hoop five inches higher.

He whooped as the ball rebounded and he dove for it, very pleased with himself and certain that he wouldn't have made that save even a year ago. He'd needed every milimeter of height he'd grown since then, and his flying hadn't been nearly as sharp at the begining of last season. Charlie had drilled him on that, and under Marissa, he'd kept up his mastery-by-repetition drills of sudden one-eighty turns. A life-time of skateboarding hadn't been a bad background for that particular skill either, once he sorted out the different muscles needed for a sitting broom versus a standing board. That had been a lot of his early trouble with flying. He kept trying to use leg muscles to turn and those were useless on a broom. He had almost needed a couple of years to get the muscle memory ingrained enough to pull off the kind of manuevers a good Keeper needed to make the most impressive saves.

Like the one he'd just done. He was still grinning as his hands closed around the Quaffle, snagging it out of its freefall, then rose back up in front of his goals, the symbol of his trimuph still clutched in front of him. He raised it over his head, looked around for a clear shot to one of the red-clad Chasers, found one, and threw the ball.

It was still far too close to relax yet, but he had held up his end of the game, far better than he ever had before. Confidence surged in him, and he was sure this game, this goal, was a turning point for him. He wasn't just a guy Charlie had stuck in front of the goals anymore. He was a Keeper. He could do this, he would do this, and he would be good at it. Merlin knew he had the right size for it. And maybe Rachel Bauer would even be a little impressed.

Now if only the Chasers would hold up their end of the game and get the Quaffle the heck out of dodge.

1 Nic Sawyer, Keeper Chasers, you're supposed to be on the other side 165 Nic Sawyer, Keeper 0 5

Topher Calhoun, Beater

December 19, 2011 1:28 PM

Fly, Chasers, fly! by Topher Calhoun, Beater

Maybe it was crazy, Topher himself didn’t know, but he was actually feeling pretty good about playing Aladren first. It was a break from the endless routine they’d been stuck in since he got to Sonora, and he couldn’t help but believe, cheerfully, that this meant it was also going to mean a break in the endless cycle of Aladren victories. This was going to be Crotalus’ game, which was going to lead to Crotalus’ year, which was…going to lead to something good, he wasn’t sure what the third element in that chain should be, or very worried about it. His job was just to help them win the game.

He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of going against Edmond Carey again, of course. No one sane would be, and even if he wasn’t entirely sane, Topher was still sure he wasn’t quite that far gone. But he wasn’t nearly as nervous about it as he had been in his first two years at Sonora. He and Edmond and he and Preston had all played the same Bludgers before, and while Topher had never been able to save his captain in the end, he’d given it his best shot, and gotten in a hit or two on Arnold Carey at the same time. He wasn’t as wide as Beaters tended to be, and guessed he never would be, but he thought he was definitely no longer the low man in the pack of Sonora Beaters.

That would be his trusty sidekick, Gareth. Who proceeded, as soon as the game began, to be a wild man, going everywhere after a Bludger. Topher was impressed. That was not letting being a first year get you down.

However, Preston and Edmond were not so impressed that they felt any particular need to let Gareth hit their Chasers, and at least one Bludger was definitely in that vicinity, being aimed repeatedly at Crotali. Topher wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with the other, or for that matter where Gareth was as the game flew, with impressive speed, down through all of Crotalus’ territory toward the goals, but he knew that this was a situation that needed to be handled and, wishing Marissa well and mentally warning Arnold not to be too pleased with this reprieve if Gareth hadn’t already ended it, threw himself into it, deflecting a Bludger from Preston back toward an Aladren just as Russell tried to score.

They were old friends, he and Russell, the kind that happened when your mothers happened to be in the same hospital on the same day having kids which happened to be the two of you. Mellie Goodwin, the cousin of the best friend of Russell’s cousin, was kind of the same way – a year younger, sure, but he didn’t remember enough about being one to remember the time when she hadn’t been tagging along after them, getting into stuff with his cousin Lucy, all that, when they were at home. They were all from the same neighborhood, more or less the same social class, and since they were all also – if only technically in Mellie’s case and weirdly in his – only children, that had fallen together quite well. But when everyone was playing Quidditch, Russ and Mel were opposing Chasers, and it was his job to act explicitly counter to their health and well-being, and he cheered as Nic blocked the shot, waving his bat in brief celebration before he found the next thing to hit a Bludger at.

0 Topher Calhoun, Beater Fly, Chasers, fly! 0 Topher Calhoun, Beater 0 5

Kitty McLevy - Chaser

December 19, 2011 3:20 PM

Let’s just try that again by Kitty McLevy - Chaser

Things were going beautifully. No one had been taken out by a bludger, Aladren had the Quaffle, and the three chasers were moving down the field to make their first assault on the goals. It was marvelous, and Kitty hung back only slightly near the end so that the two boys could make the first goal (she was a bit worried about messing up and looking silly). It wouldn’t do for her as the new chaser to miss her very first attempt, so Kitty whooped as the more experienced team members made that first run. That whoop turned into a miffed little sound when the red Keeper who was longer than any human had a right to be, managed to knock the Quaffle away from the hoop.

Sky blue eyes narrowed as Kitty waited for the large Keeper to right himself and prepare to throw the Quaffle to one of his team mates. Her sharp gaze tracked the ones closest and when the ball flow Kitty brazenly darted between it and the would be recipient. A brilliant grin streaked across her lips as she kept the speed of the movement and twisted catlike though the air as she flew full out at the goals. Her small size was perfect for turning on a dime and she darted towards the right hoop before making a feign towards the center hoop only to throw it at the right.

Kitty had noticed during her own time as Keeper that most chasers rarely threw at the hoop they originally looked like they were going to throw at. This usual consistent behavior was something Kitty hoped to use against the red Keeper. Hopefully her tactic would work, but if not she’d just have to try something else next time. Her blue eyes tracked the ball as Kitty moved. It wouldn’t due to sit still long enough for a beater to take interest in her. “Come on, come on, come on…MAKE IT!” Kitty chanted under her breath as she tracked the path of the crimson orb.

0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser Let’s just try that again 0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser 0 5

Thad Pierce, Reserve

December 19, 2011 3:41 PM

Watching, Waiting and Worrying from the Wings by Thad Pierce, Reserve

Thaddeus Pierce could not say he was truly prepared for today's game. He had slept poorly the night before, plagued by anxiety dreams where everyone on the team, including Edmond, had gotten knocked down and out and he was then playing all positions, rushing around with the Quaffle, fending off bludgers with a bat, swooping in to protect the goals, and finally diving after a golden snitch. He had done each of these things moderately well, but not well enough to make up for the fact that he was playing the entire Crotalus team by himself.

It had been exhausting and he woke more tired than he'd gone to bed. When he'd tried to eat breakfast, his stomach told him flat out that if he tried to eat anything more substantial than a piece of toast, it would revolt in a spectacular fashion, so he ate one half of a piece of toast and no more. Worse than the physical ailments, though, were the mental ones. Terror was paramount, terror of all shapes and sources. Fear of injury, fear of failure, fear of losing, fear of making a fool of himself, fear of falling, fear of
messing up, fear of succumbing to Quidditch-madness, fear of a bug flying into his mouth, fear of being mistaken for prey by a passing dragon, and dozens more fears of increasingly pointless, unlikely, or trivial things. Then there were the nerves and the fact that he'd really only had about a month or two of real Quidditch training and didn't think he could possibly be as good as people who had been playing for years.

All in all, he felt it was a very good thing that he was merely an alternate and if all went well for Aladren, he would never leave the ground.

He nodded as Edmond told him to be ready, but really hoped it didn't come to that. As the others took off, Thad headed over to the Aladren bench, glanced across the field to the two red-robed alternates Crotalus had and wondered how they felt about their grounded status. Did they secretly hope one of their teammate would be knocked out so they could have a turn to shine? Were they upset they hadn't made the team but not willing to wish harm to others so they could play themselves? Or were they, as Thad was, grateful to be sitting the game out and hopeful that they remained on the ground for its entirety, not because it meant none of their friends were hurt but because it meant they would be spared the pressure of being partially or wholly responsible for whether or not their team won or lost. Edmond seemed to be under the impression it would be Arnold that Thad would need to fill in for, if he had to fill in at all, and if Marissa caught the snitch while he was in the air, the end of Aladren's long victorious streak would be all Thad's fault.

Thad looked up to the game in progress above him to make sure Arnold was not, as if thinking it made it so, in immediate danger of being bludgered into next week. Instead, the blue clad Seeker was merely flying right into Marissa's path, surely being horribly annoying to her, which Arnold seemed to think was an important facet of being a good Seeker. Thad was pretty good at annoying - or so he assumed by how many times he'd been able to make people tell him to stop asking questions and go away - but he wasn't sure that was the kind of annoying that would work for Arnold's strategy. For one thing, getting answers to his questions could very well distract him just as much or more than his opponent.

Thad's eye fell briefly to the Chaser group, clumped currently around the Crotalus goal, and booed along with the rest of the crowd's Aladren supporters as Nic made the save. Moving his focus back to Arnold, he had to squint a little into the sun, then realized the silhouettes there were more than just Arnold and Marissa now. There was a third, and Thad sat up on the edge of his bench, and reached instinctively for the broom at his feet as he heard the crack of a bat against a bludger, muted at this distance, but still intimidating. Marissa was diving and Arnold had a fresh new target painted on his back. "Watch out, Arnold!" he shouted, the words probably not loud enough to reach his team's seeker from the ground, but not trying to warn him would have felt wrong.

0 Thad Pierce, Reserve Watching, Waiting and Worrying from the Wings 0 Thad Pierce, Reserve 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser

December 19, 2011 3:56 PM

Nothing personal, but I hope you get Bludgered to a pulp. by Sam Bauer, Chaser

By the time, Bludger successfully avoided, Sam reoriented himself and looked around to see what was happening in the game, it was too late to stop Layne from trying to get past Nic.

In previous years, this would have been very bad, at least from a Crotalus point of view. Nic had been the Keeper for some time now just because – for lack of a better way to put it – there was no one else. But he’d been improving, and since they’d come back, Sam had noticed that his roommate had improved a lot. He could save against Sam himself, which he liked to think was not the least impressive feat known to man, and he could sometimes foil Renée, which took some doing even if she wasn’t at the top of her not-always-entirely-quite-sane game. The question now, though, was if he could beat the Aladrens, but Sam thought they had every reason to hope as he crossed his fingers and saw what happened.

For a second, he thought Layne had pulled it off, but then Nic saved it and Sam grinned for one moment in grim satisfaction before darting in to catch the ball as it came back into play –

- Only to swear horribly as he nearly lost his seat on his broom, not to mention his broom itself, because the tiny little girl they were using to prove their entire House wasn’t just an outpost of pureblood male society, no really, darted in front of him to get it and it was all he could do not to crash into her. If he’d had half the money that was on her team, or even just what was on some members of his, he would have crashed and hoped he broke a few of her ribs with the end of his broom, but he knew perfectly well that while injuring himself was acceptable since it would be put right in a matter of seconds once the game was over or he was forced to go down for help, whichever came first, injuring his broom was another matter entirely, because he couldn’t replace it. It was nothing more than sheer luck that he had it at all, and it wouldn't have been the best on the Pitch if the other side hadn't been entirely comprised of the kind of guys who fixed elections and horse races and anything else where probability or whatever it was should have been a factor.

Luckily, he saw Topher and moved helpfully a bit further back, hopefully giving the third year a chance to break someone’s head, while watching the Quaffle closely. Next time, if that happened again, he might save his broom again, but then he might just give in to his current temptation to fly up behind the girl and give her a good hard shove. Aladrens. Why couldn’t they stick to ensuring the school’s good test scores and be content with that? Instead of trying to kill everybody, as often as not including themselves.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser Nothing personal, but I hope you get Bludgered to a pulp. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Nic Sawyer, Keeper

December 19, 2011 7:31 PM

That's not at all nice, but I find I agree by Nic Sawyer, Keeper

It was, Nic reluctantly decided, his own fault that Kitty had the ball. He should have looked around more before deciding that Sam was open. His only excuse for this was that she was too small to see. At least he'd had the foresight to get in front of the goals again before throwing the ball out into play again.

She was close, too close really, so she didn't bother to pass. She just faked to his left then shot at the center. No, faked to the center, then went to the left for real. Nic cursed and made another diving lunge to try to block the secondary shot.

He was just a little too far away. Even with his spectacularly long reach, he could not protect the side hoop from the middle. He managed to get a single finger on the leather casing around the Quaffle, marginally diverting the ball, but not enough. It sailed through the hoop, brushing against the inside rim, but that didn't make it score any less.

Growling under his breath, Nic fetched the ball as it fell. He returned to his spot in front of the goal, eyed Kitty in a way that was meant to be intimidating. He took a good look around, this time making sure he found all of the lurking Aladrens before throwing the ball, good and hard, toward the Crotalus Chaser furthest from any of the Aladrens.

"Get it out of here," he yelled at his teammate, not wanting to face a third attempt again so soon. Still, he kept his broom moving, not letting himself get caught flat-footed (flat-broomed?) again. He hadn't had any momentum to throw around to get at Kitty's throw and that freezing inertia would not happen twice.

1 Nic Sawyer, Keeper That's not at all nice, but I find I agree 165 Nic Sawyer, Keeper 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce

December 19, 2011 7:31 PM

Aladren scores! 10-0 (nm) by Coach Amelia Pierce

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Aladren scores! 10-0 (nm) 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce

December 19, 2011 7:42 PM

Recentering and Recap by Coach Amelia Pierce

We start off on a beautiful sunny day with the sun blindingly bright in the East. It's a little cool, but not freezing cold. Captains speak and shake hands and the game is on:

-Renee gets the ball off the whistle, heads for David, and passes
-Kitty intercepts, dodges bludgers, heads back toward Nic, and passes to Russell
-Russell catches and passes back to Kitty
-Gareth shoots another bludger
-Edmond intercepts and hits at Sam
-Sam dodges and misses his chance to intercept
-Kitty catches and passes back to Arthur
-Arthur gets within scoring distance and passes to Russell
-Russell tries to score
-Preston tries to hit a Crotalus Chaser
-Topher stops him
-Nic saves! He tries to pass to Sam
-Kitty intercepts and tries to score again
-Sam is mad
-Aladren 10 - Crotalus 0!

Meanwhile the Seekers are having fun too.
-Marissa tries to enjoy herself
-Arnold cuts her off
-Marissa tries a Wronski Feint
-Gareth takes the opportunity to hit a bludger at Arnold

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Recentering and Recap 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser

December 19, 2011 10:29 PM

Restarting. by Sam Bauer, Chaser

In giving the Aladrens enough of a berth that they would hopefully be hit by Bludgers as they awaited their triumph, Sam had inadvertently made himself the man to toss the Quaffle to again. Redemption, he supposed, for letting the little one get the better of him the first time, for not seeing her coming somehow and stopping her without committing a foul and cracking his head open at the same time – namely by moving faster, getting there in time, and coming out with the ball, but he preferred to be annoyed right now. And get the Quaffle and get the hell out of Dodge, as per Nic’s instructions.

So he moved in as fast as he could, then rose in the air and turned and flew back down the Pitch as fast as he could, covering more ground than he’d initially realized when he looked at his surroundings. Glancing at his broom, he felt impressed and patted it with his free hand, pleased with it for this opportune bout of performance ability, before getting his mind strictly back on the game, looking for a way to pass. Crotalus sometimes – often, even – lost the ball because of it, but they passed early and often because to do otherwise was to all but invite the Bludgers, even if Topher and Gareth had been doing an adequate job of keeping them off of them so far now.

Aladren had gotten their few minutes of easy living. Now it was Crotalus’ turn. He hoped. They did have a lot more ground to cover than the Aladrens had, even with Renée’s run at the start of the game that he wished they all had to do over now.

Since the past couldn't change and the distance was still there, though, it was best to be covering it, then. He spotted one of the other two, drew in as near as he dared in case his broom or one of their brooms should wobble so they wouldn’t be thrown together painfully and possibly give the Aladrens a good laugh and tempt Coach Pierce to disown them on the spot by falling at the same time, and passed the Quaffle, crossing the toes on his right foot, his hands being occupied at the moment, that it would be completed instead of intercepted. He wanted a lead, a good lead that would be hard to break by less than the Snitch, but he’d settle right this second for getting the score even again.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser Restarting. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

December 19, 2011 11:03 PM

Refocusing by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Arnold was mostly looking for the Snitch, but he had learned, over the past two years and summers, to keep an awareness of where the other Seeker was even if he wasn’t really looking at her just then, so he noticed Marissa’s movements. When she suddenly dove, he didn’t really think twice about following; even if it turned out to be a feint, he was sure he could pull out of it faster than she could, so if one of them crashed, he expected it to be her.

He was, and knew that he was, the Beaters’ top priority, so he didn’t really think, in the excitement of the chase, to wonder if the other Beaters would take this prime opportunity to make him lose his seat on the broom until there was suddenly a whistling noise, and it was much too close for him to do anything about it.

He gave doing something about it a try, anyway, but mostly just succeeded in making himself dizzy and the Bludger come within an inch of smashing into his ankle, which, he knew from experience gained outside of Sonora, would have hurt horribly. As it was, he was barely hanging onto his broom and while he didn’t think the next-lowest part of his leg was broken, he would – based still on experience – bet it wasn’t going to stop hurting anytime soon. Turning red and starting to feel sick, he tried to remember what on earth he was doing….

Snitch. Marissa. Something like that. He looked around, trying to figure out what was going on and if there was still a game going on, or if he’d just lost it for them. It was the first time he could ever remember hoping the other Seeker was performing a maneuver which involved him crashing into the ground for it to be counted as a real, straightforward success.

He also moved as he did this. Staying still, muscle memory was telling him as his regular memory tried to catch up after being forced to move around the throbbing pain in his leg, was the best way to invite further injuries.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker Refocusing 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

December 19, 2011 11:28 PM

One more for the road by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

Time seemed to slow down for an instant as Gareth watched the smaller blue robed Seeker begin to dive after his Captain. The fierce black ball he’d launched only seconds before streaked forward with dark intent. Luck, or more likely skill caused the Seeker to notice the bludger just before it struck. Gareth couldn’t help but feel mildly impressed at the older player’s acrobatics in his attempt to evade the bludger. But, no matter how fancy the moves, or how determined the player, it just wasn’t enough to keep him out of danger. The heavy ball struck the Seeker just above the ankle. Gareth couldn’t tell if it had struck with enough force to break bone, but either way it would give his own Seeker the advantage.

As the black ball shot off in another direction, hunting for another victim, Gareth shot forward. He leaned over his broom light blue eyes locked on the dark shape that could easily sway the game in Crotalus favor if he could just reach it in time. It had only taken a single glance to see that his attempts at evading the first bludger had left the Aladren Seeker dazed. If he could just move fast enough then he had the opportunity to strike one more time. If he got in another good hit now Gareth thought he could probably ground the game winning Seeker.

Closer…closer….there! Gareth’s breath quickened as the bludger caught him getting to close and veered in his direction, no longer away. Now, both above and more to the right of the little Seeker Gareth thought that a strike from this angle, coming so soon after the last would work well in his and his team’s favor. “I’ve got you now.” Gareth whispered as he swung, the deep vibration of the bludger resounded up the bat and into his arm leaving behind a nearly pleasant tingle. The vicious ball shot down towards the hopefully unsuspecting Seeker who with a little luck would still be too dazed from his prior flight to successfully evade.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater One more for the road 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Edmond Carey, Beater

December 19, 2011 11:45 PM

No, I think not by Edmond Carey, Beater

So far, the game seemed to be going entirely Aladren’s way. No Crotali had yet been hit, but neither had any Aladrens, and the ball had moved smoothly from Miss Errant down the Pitch to the goals.

He did not approve of Kitty’s move, exactly – it was unnecessarily reckless, darting out in front of Mr. Bauer like that, and who knew what any of the Crotalus Chasers might do today, of all days? Another one might have collided with her and then scratched her eyes out for it just on general principle – but it wasn’t his part to critique the Chasers just now, and he’d be pleased enough with it if she managed to score. Then, though, he looked up past her, up to see what the Seekers were doing, and was immediately distracted by the sight of Arnold flying off in an attempt to avoid a Bludger which did not work.

Damn. He’d thought Preston was over there, and he’d known he saw Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Whatsisface-briar both over here before. It seemed Mr. Whatsisface had left the area in favor of attacking the prize of the Aladren Seeker in a moment when he and the Crotalus one were not so close together.

Risky, anyway, with them both diving like that; Arnold might have pulled ahead, leaving the Bludger to focus on Marissa. It hadn’t happened, though. Oh, he was glad this was his last season. For now, though, he flew after the Bludger which had injured his cousin, shouting something he hoped was vaguely reassuring at Arnold as he passed before turning the Bludger itself, already heading toward Arnold again from the same Crotalus Beater, on Marissa, taking the lack of wild applause from the Crotalus side as proof that she hadn’t caught the Snitch and made the entire exercise irrelevant before he even got to it.

0 Edmond Carey, Beater No, I think not 0 Edmond Carey, Beater 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

December 20, 2011 1:01 AM

I see that. by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

Marissa pulled out of the dive once she realized Arnold was not only not passing her, he was nowhere near her, and looked back to see what was up. It seemed to be a mild case of Bludgers in his immediate vicinity.

Normally, she never would have done such a thing at the sight of someone who was hurt. Normally, she would have been the first to offer a charm or a potion, or go fetch the medic, or help in whatever way seemed most appropriate at the time. Normally. Right now, though, in Quidditch, which was not normal, she smiled.

Immediately afterward, she kind of regretted that. Considering what happened in that moment, it seemed like she’d invited bad luck by being happy at Arnold’s distress, because no sooner than Gareth went in to take Arnold down while he was wounded than Edmond appeared out of nowhere, clearly not best pleased with the treatment his cousin, or whatever Arnold was exactly to him since they were nearly as physically different as they could be and she’d never actually asked, had just gotten. She couldn’t see his expression, but actions could speak louder than body language at time.

Of course, it could be purely business. The psychology of Beaters wasn’t something she knew much about or, honestly, cared to know much about. She realized it probably said something she wouldn’t like about her thoughts on violence that she was playing this game at all, and doing so more or less voluntarily now that Helena Layne was long gone, and doing it well enough, or at least indifferently enough, that she had become captain, but she didn’t know or want to know much about that, either, and Beating was just too violent for her to contemplate doing herself. Admittedly, no one got seriously injured, at least here at school, but the potential was there, and it was deliberately going out of their way to attack other people, over a game she could almost bet none of them were going to have a career in. It wasn’t something she could see herself doing, even if she hadn’t been probably too lightweight to even hit the ball hard enough to make it go far enough away that it didn’t attack her instead.

Right now, though, wasn’t the moment to think about it. Right now was the moment to run and hope she was coincidentally running toward instead of away from the Snitch, not delivering it right into Arnold’s hands.

She didn’t run quite fast enough, and felt it glance off her left shoulder as she turned right and shot away, up and away, away from danger, hoping it would keep going in the direction it had been going when it hit her. It wasn’t bad, she thought, just a bruise, not a very bad one, but it hurt. She was lucky it hadn’t been her right shoulder, since it would be her right hand she’d need for the Snitch, but she was still not as good as she’d been a few minutes ago, and next time, she expected the Aladrens would take their own time about deciding when to attack instead of just deflecting a shot from Arnold. The Beaters were in it now, both of them were probably going to be covered for the rest of the match.

Joy, pure joy, really. She flew, looking for the Snitch, trying to decide, as it didn’t appear, if she should shadow Arnold for a bit more protection from the Bludgers. Edmond wouldn’t risk Arnold just to try at her…she thought. It would be the rational thing to do, but then, anyone could lose their heads during the games. But it would be less likely, but then, it might go on longer, and then, in a race, well, she’d probably lose, so….

She shook her head, feeling the air trying to tug her ponytail out behind her as she accelerated, moving, changing directions regularly. She thought Arnold was hurting more than she was right now, which was another advantage in her pocket. She didn’t want to squander it any time soon. She might, it was very possible, but she’d put it off while she could.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker I see that. 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Cepheus Princeton, Reserve

December 20, 2011 6:00 AM

Warming the bench and cheering silently. by Cepheus Princeton, Reserve

Cepheus had first been furious when he'd discovered he hadn't made the position of beater. His pride had been hurt, and he hadn't had anything to write home about. It was infuriatingly frustrating. But the more he thought about it, he felt that Gareth would make the better beater. Of course, this came after he vented his frustration out on a piece of parchment for Charms class, and had spent nearly a week avoiding his room-mate, which proved to be rather difficult. Nevertheless, he came to the conclusion that he hardly carried the arm strength necessary for a beater, and that he would just have to wait to carry on for their captain if she ever was hurt during the match in any way. He didn't like sitting on the bench and watching the match much, but it was better than watching it in the stands.

Cepheus watched the game closely, proud of his room-mate's hits. Unfortunately, it looked like the Aladren captain was blocking his bludgers, and Cepheus's fingers clenched into a fist. His competitive streak was coming out, and he wanted to beat Aladren. If not, it would be really pathetic for Crotalus, and he wanted his team to win the house cup. If not that, then, well, he didn't know. He kept himself from cheering his team on, but watched with keen blue eyes, satisfied with Gareth's hits. He'd hit the Aladren Seeker! Cepheus would reconcile with his room-mate the next time he saw him, that was for certain. The better bloke had, as much as Cepheus was loathe to admit, earned the position of beater. It wasn't Cepheus's position of choice, anyway.

Marissa was doing quite well too, though the Snitch really didn't seem to be anywhere. It never was "anywhere", till it was. And then it was a mad rush for it. He thought she'd seen it, until she pulled up and her concentration broke, and then Cepheus read it to be a feint. He bit his tongue to keep from shouting when he saw their captain take a hit on the shoulder, but watched carefully to see if needed any assistance.

His eyes flickered from his team-mates to specifically Gareth and Marissa. He really did not want to see either his room-mate or his captain and the Crotalus Seeker take a bad hit and end up in the hospital wing. That would mean Cepheus would have to play cold and he really didn't want that. And besides, he wanted Crotalus to win. "Go Marissa, find that Snitch and let's win," he muttered under his breath.

0 Cepheus Princeton, Reserve Warming the bench and cheering silently. 0 Cepheus Princeton, Reserve 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser

December 20, 2011 1:27 PM

Starting by Linus Macaulay, Chaser

If Linus had been hoping for some inspirational speech from the captain in his first ever Quidditch game, he would have been supremely let down. As it happened, he had very few existing conceptions concerning wizarding sporting events, and so just blinked at the captain’s insinuation that he knew what he was supposed to do, and swung his leg over his broomstick. Theoretically, of course he knew what he was supposed to do – he’d watched Quidditch games last year, had been to team practises this year, and had even done some reading around history and technique in the library – he just hadn’t done it, as such, in these particular circumstances. The fact that most students at his school were under the impression that the Aladren team were all certifiably insane was neither here nor there.

Taking a deep breath, Linus closed his eyes for just a moment to center his thoughts, then opened them to take in his surroundings. He brushed his blond hair back from his face, and then gripped the handle of his broomstick tightly, while testing the give of the earth beneath his feet. When the whistle blew, he was ready, and he pushed off from the ground to rise into the air… apparently at a slower pace that his more experienced teammates. At least the Quaffle began its journey in possession of the Rattlesnakes, which felt like a small victory in and of itself. It was, however, short-lived; Katrina was so tiny – this was even more apparent when she was on a large pitch among players many years older than her – that Linus barely saw her intercept the ball and make attempts to take it in the wrong direction.

Somehow, the game didn’t improve from there. Linus had turned his broom around (he was okay at turning now, providing he still had both hands on the broom) and saw the Quaffle move further away, and between Aladrens as if the Crotalus players didn’t even exist. He made an attempt or two at Chasing the Quaffle (as his role name indicated), but then there were Bludgers around, too, and how did people manage to intercept at these speeds at this height, anyway? He knew it was only his first game, and he would get used to it within time, but for now it was all the second year could do to keep tabs on which ball was where.

By the time Linus managed to get himself in a position that he thought might be useful to the game without injuring him in the process (he didn’t need to have heard any of the rumours about the Aladren captain – he just had to see the sixth year to know that he didn’t want on the receiving end of one of his Bludgers), Aladren had made two attempts at the goal, and one the of those attempts had been successful. The Keeper actually hadn’t turned out as badly as Linus had been expecting – based, once again, on the hearsay he’d collected last year – and although he had applied for the Keeper position himself, Linus couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he’d have saved both shots, either. Saving one goal was undeniably better than saving two goals, and after Aladren scored, at least the Quaffle was back in Crotalus hands. That meant Linus had to get back into the game… or into it in the first place, as was perhaps more accurate.

It seemed prudent to follow Sam up the pitch away from the Aladrens and Nic, and so that’s what Linus did, attempting to match his teammate’s speed; he almost made himself sick flying that fast, but managed to swallow down bile and vertigo with the metaphorical spoonful of sugar that was staying on his broom and making himself open to receive a pass. Thankfully, Sam didn’t even attempt one of the more theatrical passes that Renee sometimes favoured during practises, instead moving in close so Linus barely had to adjust his own movements to catch the Quaffle. The second year reached out a hand, and leaned over the ball as he scooped it in towards his person, and then leaned forward over his broomstick to recover from the wobble he’d instigated when he’d taken his hand of the broom. He was still on course, and he had the Quaffle, and he felt a bit queasy from the speed at which he was travelling coupled with the adrenaline of making his first in-game catch, but the two slices of toast with marmalade, glass of water and bowl of cereal (with sugar, because it was a weekend and a Quidditch game, and this scenario definitely counted as an excusable occasion for extra sugar) he’d had for breakfast would probably remain within his digestive system, at least for the time being. Now the next item on his to-do list was to pass the Quaffle successfully, preferably to another Crotalus Chaser.

Looking around him as best as he could by only turning his head – if he turned much more than his shoulders he still had a tendency to wobble at an alarming rate, and this was without the added burden of holding a Quaffle – Linus identified what he believed would be his best opportunity to make a good pass. This was apparently the area at which he excelled within the realm of being a Chaser. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised – he’d been a decent pitcher in his Little League games, and although the Quaffle was a different size and shape, and he had to throw it whilst straddling a broomstick, Linus nevertheless retained the ability to make a ball go where he intended it to. There was the small matter of keeping his balance to contend with, but with the practice he’d gotten in since the start of term was sufficient to allow Linus to manoeuvre the red leather ball into his right hand, lift his to shoulder height, and make a short, sharp pass in the direction of the nearest suitable red-clad player.

He held his breath in the period between the ball leaving his fingertips and it being collected by another set of digits, ideally belonging to Crotalus, of course. They were, at least, a decent enough way from the goals now that it was unlikely an Aladren who intercepted his pass would make another direct attack at Nic… though this was Aladren, and hence they were insane.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Starting 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser

December 20, 2011 7:07 PM

Stealing. by Russell Layne, Chaser

Russell had almost made it. For one moment, he’d thought that he’s scored, even before it happened. But then Nic just managed to deflect it, and all of a sudden Crotalus was back in the game.

Well. That was kind of a disappointment.

Before he could get too far down, though, Kitty apparently decided to be mad (Russell wasn’t entirely sure himself if he meant this in the sense of ‘angry’ or in the sense of ‘insane’) instead of sad or disappointed and dove in to grab the Quaffle and make another play, and this one, maybe just because it was so out of nowhere, succeeded.

“Ha!” he said, then raised his voice a little. “Good job, Kitty!”

There wasn’t time for much congratulations besides that, though, because then the ball was back in Crotalus hands and moving along more quickly than he would have expected. All due respect to the guy, he was a pretty good player and would be the Crotalus captain next year, but Sam didn’t usually fly that fast, and Crotali in general didn’t go very far with the ball – at least not as far as Aladrens might. It was always possible that his team tended toward being a little more daring than was really good for them, but hey – they won.

Sam passed, then the new guy passed and Russell, though not as small as Kitty, was still smaller than Arthur and decided to try for it. Swooping in, focused firmly on controlling his broom and being ready to move immediately if it looked like he was about to crash with someone, he extended his arms and snatched the ball from the air between the two Crotali.

As soon as he was sure he had it, and was clear of having it snatched out of his hands, a grin spread across his face as he turned and began heading back toward the Crotalus goals. There they went. Another minute, and they would probably have another goal. Twenty points on the board, and no trouble….

…Well, no trouble for those immediately around him, anyway. Glancing up, he saw there was something going on between Seekers and Beaters, but he didn’t have time to really look to see what. Hoping it was worse for the other team than it was for his, he made a pass, hoping again that something would go better for his team than it had for the other one.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser Stealing. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

December 21, 2011 3:04 PM

He likes to make his points pretty clearly. by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Arnold heard Edmond shouting at him, and while it took what he could make out of the words a moment to mean anything to him, he took being spoken to at all as a bad omen and got away quickly, deciding that whatever Edmond was doing, he didn’t need to be involved in it. It almost certainly involved Bludgers and pain, and he’d rather Marissa had them right now than him. He’d had his share for the game, he thought, or at least really hoped. Though if he’d gotten hit once already this early in the game, he did not have high hopes of making it out of the rest without further injury. It just didn’t seem likely, somehow.

As he flew, though, his head began to clear up again. His leg still hurt, but he thought he could think okay now. Ignore it – sort of, or at least grit his teeth and push it to the side in favor of thinking about more serious matters, like finding the Snitch before one of the Crotalus Beaters gave Edmond and Preston the slip again and hit him, again. He didn’t want that to happen. Really, really didn’t want that to happen.

The Snitch was obviously somewhere, the Pitch being enchanted so it could not leave. It was not where he was. It could move and change direction quickly, but often fluttered in an area for a time, not going far. If he flew fast and paid attention, then, he should be able to catch it while it was doing that. Right. He knew all this. He was thinking it through just to be sure he knew it, but now he’d done that and he knew it.

Flying when one of his legs wasn’t its best wasn’t as easy as he might have liked, but he could do it, just like he could pay attention even though that wasn’t as easy as it was usually even off the Pitch, when on it was the only place where he did usually find it easy to concentrate, his world, usually packed with classes and people and letters and more people and assignments and meals and a thousand other distractions, narrowing to the confines of the Pitch and his expression becoming, when he really set himself to the work of Seeking, very like his brother’s when Arthur was studying a new book.

Just now, though, it looked more like Arthur’s when his brother was studying their grandfather’s back after Anthony VI said something which Arthur deemed offensive, but he didn’t know that, either. He just knew he had to look for the Snitch and find it, and he knew the patterns he’d need to do that – provided luck wasn’t entirely with Marissa today, anyway. But he didn’t think it would be. Luck had never left him entirely. Something didn’t, anyway – he’d lead a charmed life, and nothing had ever gone really wrong for him, and truly, he couldn’t believe, really believe, that anything ever would.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker He likes to make his points pretty clearly. 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Edmond Carey, Beater

December 21, 2011 3:09 PM

Or try to, at least by Edmond Carey, Beater

Marissa was quick on the uptake – he would, of course, have expected no less; she had not risen to be prefect, Quidditch captain, and Head Girl by sheer dumb luck – and just as quickly running from the Bludger Edmond had sent after her, but it did manage to touch her. Right now, with Crotalus holding the ball for a pass again and Arnold injured and the new Crotalus Beater unexpectedly good, Edmond would accept that as, if not precisely a win, definitely as a step in the right direction.

Just a step. He did not have to worry much about getting hit by Bludgers generally, but he had watched them hit other people often enough that he had some idea of how these things went, and he was sure she was not hurt as badly as Arnold, even though the Bludger had glanced off her shoulder instead of her leg and it was her shoulders and arms she’d need to reach out and grasp the Snitch in most cases. He hated to, Marissa really was a lovely person generally and he was quite admiring of how well she’d managed to do for herself despite her…limitations, but he did need to set that right, bring her, if not lower than his Seeker, at least down to Arnold’s level again. Arnold’s size, Arnold’s broom, and Arnold’s sheer suicidal recklessness were all things which worked in Aladren’s favor – usually; the suicidal recklessness in particular was something which could go the other way, and his size could work against him if the Bludgers were flying thick and he ran into one – but Arnold’s injury was not, and it cancelled out some of the advantage they had as long as Marissa was more healthful than he was.

So he chased after her, not meaning to let a Crotalus have another try with that Bludger, and when he was within hitting distance swung the bat again, sending the potential for fractures and bruises and falls and most of the other risks of Quidditch back in her direction. That seemed to be the strategy of the other side just now – keep on while they’re already a bit down, keep on until one of you or the other collapses from utter exhaustion – and Edmond supposed he could play that game as well. If it really did come to who could remain sitting upright the longest, he thought he would not have too much trouble winning that contest.

The honeymoon, it seemed, was over. Now, with a goal scored so easily, and in a way that would have no doubt annoyed the Crotali nearly to death, the Crotali were going to dig in their heels and fight it out. As far as he was concerned, the game had really just begun, now it was going to be played out in earnest if the Snitch didn’t suddenly appear an inch from a Seeker’s nose, and now things were going to get interesting.

Edmond hated it when things around him that didn’t involve his studies got interesting. And in recent years, he had started to think that even boredom in his studies might not be too high of a price to pay for having wonderful, wonderful boredom in the rest of his life. A few years of his life might not be too high of a price to pay for the rest of them being lived out in quiet boredom, well away from all dramas and dangers and intrigues. But that wasn’t possible, so he just went on with the business of Beating and reminded himself not to slip into the spot where he forgot himself and began for just a little while to actually enjoy the hectic nature of the game and the constant back and forths and even the violence. It would be pleasurable at the time, but later, he knew it would make him feel more than a little guilty and ashamed of himself, and that just didn’t seem worth it.

“Come on, now, Arnold,” he muttered, noticing that at least his Seeker seemed to be taking it more seriously now. “Go on.” They could enjoy playing the Championship, later, after they took care of Crotalus. Even he couldn’t really pretend that matches between his team and the one in red were really friendly anymore – and wasn’t even prepared to say any match at all would be. He supposed he was no expert on the topic of human nature and motivations, but he thought it wasn’t unreasonable for the other teams to have started to resent, at least a little, just how often Aladren won. Maybe, if they hadn’t also won the House Cup so often…but that was so much idle speculation, when he really didn’t have time to think about that now.

0 Edmond Carey, Beater Or try to, at least 0 Edmond Carey, Beater 0 5

Paul Bennett, Reserve

December 21, 2011 3:15 PM

Not quite silently by Paul Bennett, Reserve

He was, Paul knew, an anomaly. Given the chance to be on at least the second-best team in Sonora, a part of the Noble Sport of guys whose title literally indicated they excelled in warlike pursuits, a hero of Sonora, flashy and dangerous and all that, Paul had stepped aside, showing up to try-outs late to tell Marissa that if it was all the same to her – though in more respectful terms; she was a Muggleborn, sure, and a girl who played Quidditch, that was obvious, but she was recognized by the school three times over and she was a seventh year when he was a second year and could no doubt curse him to smithereens, and all that equaled up to Paul having no problem at all with showing her a great deal of deference and respect – he’d hang out on the bench this year and watch rather than playing on the main team himself.

He’d been completely aware that, the stubbornness of the first string players being legendary now, this meant he probably wouldn’t play at all. That was his goal in all this. He’d gotten into it last year, so he hadn’t felt like he could just walk away completely and without fuss, but he had quickly discovered that he wasn’t like the other people on his team. He wasn’t going to break his neck so Coach Pierce could reclaim the shiny Cup from Professor Fawcett; he just didn’t get enough out of that bargain for it to seem worth the price. He did, though, care just enough about the House that he would rather not hold it back, though that emotion was secondary to not wanting to get killed by an irate team member because they figured him out and blamed him for something. The safety of five of the other six people on his team just seemed like too big of a task for him, more than he really felt up to, so he’d let Topher and the new guy have fun with that and take Linus’ chair if, as seemed quite possible, he got his head knocked off by Edmond Carey.

In the course of all this, he hadn’t really gotten to know the other alternate, the one who seemed likely, at least based on his preferences on the sign-up sheet Paul had watched fill up before making his own decisions, to be Marissa’s replacement next year. This was one of the things Paul would admit hadn’t been the best move on his part. This was Crotalus versus Aladren, traditionally the most hectic game of the year, and that meant, if Edmond Carey wasn’t in too homicidal a mood today or, just possibly, he was but the others were all lucky, that they might be stuck on this bench together for a while. That could get awkward.

“Not the worst day for it,” he remarked, fully conscious of using the weather as a topic for conversation, as the game began, and then he concentrated on that, even though it began to strain his neck and periodically he’d look down and rub his neck for a minute because Paul wasn’t interested enough in anything that was going on to hold an uncomfortable pose for too long. Things weren’t going Crotalus’ way anway, and he felt no particular desire to see his team embarrassed once more, though he did notice that his replacement was doing a pretty good job. Marissa had chosen well, as had he, and that was just great for everyone involved, he thought.

“I’ll second that,” he said when he heard Cepheus muttering under his breath about Marissa going ahead and catching the Snitch already. “Doubt she heard you, though. Hurrah, Marissa!” he called, actually only slightly louder than his normal speaking voice. Paul had never lost control enough to really cheer and shout, and there seemed little point when it was almost impossible for the players to make out any individual cries of support or opposition from the crowd unless they were made by a group all at once. “She looks steadier than Carey, at least right now, don’t you think? Your roommate did a good job with that.”

Perhaps his conversation was not welcome, but he thought he was bright enough to work that out quickly if it was the case, and it was somewhat against Paul’s nature to sit in silence. The more silence there was, the more inclined he was to ramble once the silence ended, as it just had. And when he did that, he was not, as he was sadly aware, always as perfectly polite and on script as he should have been. This was not good when the demand of society was that everyone be, at all times, perfectly composed and in control and not one toe out of line with what everyone else agreed was the right way to be just now.

0 Paul Bennett, Reserve Not quite silently 201 Paul Bennett, Reserve 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser

December 21, 2011 3:20 PM

Shooting by Arthur Carey, Chaser

Everything had gone beautifully until the moment they reached the goals, when an unexpectedly on-the-spot Nic Sawyer had saved Russell’s shot despite it being one which Arthur was of a mind to compliment his roommate on. Arthur grimaced, but accepted it as not a matter he needed to worry too much about. It was the first attempt; there might be many more, on both sides, if the Seekers were not at top form today or the Snitch was just being more elusive today. Or the Beaters were at top form; Arnold might fly through a hurricane if the bright idea struck him to do so, but he’d slow down a little once he was hurt, as, presumably, would Miss Stephenson.

Now that he looked at him, though, he noticed that Mr. Sawyer did look more formidable than he had previously, and had clearly been practicing well. Before he had time to more than note this, though, Katrina chose not to accept the loss and darted in, heedless of the proximity of Mr. Bauer, to intercept the pass of the Quaffle back into the game and score the first goal of the day.

Arthur put his hands together twice in appreciation, not because he thought she deserved less applause, but because there was no time for more appreciation of their new Chaser. The Crotali, so slapped across the face by having two shots taken at their Keeper in a matter of seconds and all their Bludgers diverted, finally came alive, and the Quaffle was moving back down the Pitch, away from where Arthur wanted it to be and toward where he would really rather it was not. So he had to hurry after it to retrieve it and put it back where it was supposed to go, namely back through one of the Crotalus goal hoops.

His hurry to reclaim the ball, despite how much this would incense the Crotali, had, of course, nothing to do with his opinion of Mr. Wilkes. He had all the respect in the world for Mr. Wilkes. Mr. Wilkes was a fine Quidditch player, and a fine example to them all – such a very illustrious figure that he had not even needed to play a single game to be named as Edmond’s successor, and gladly accepted by them all as such. Mr. Wilkes would, if the ball came close to him, do brilliantly as Keeper; of that, Arthur was completely sure. But he would rather not test it just now.

Mr. Bauer passed the Quaffle to the new Crotalus Chaser, Mr. Macaulay, and that meant following further, further on – and then Mr. Macaulay tried to pass again, and though it was a close thing, Russell intercepted it. Arthur smiled grimly, pleased with this turn of events, and turned again, following the Quaffle back toward the goals Mr. Wilkes was not guarding. Now, they just had to score again, despite the new and improved Mr. Sawyer in front of the hoops they were preparing to assault. The Crotali would fight them for it this time, possibly, but…now he welcomed them to do that. It was difficult to muster much of an interest in doing things like this ahead of the fact, but now, now that he’d done it for a bit, he was starting to thoroughly enjoy himself.

When the ball was passed to him again, he caught it easily and kept going on, flying toward the goals at high speed, but careful not to get too far from his fellows. Drawing close to the goals, he raised his hands and turned as though starting to pass, but at the last moment he pulled out of that and took a hard, straight shot at the left hoop, putting all he had behind the Quaffle in the hopes this would make it move faster and so succeed in going through the hoop again. Twenty points in – what? He didn’t think it had been five minutes yet, though he was already losing his time sense, sadly never anywhere near the best, and expected it to be entirely gone quite soon. He shouldn’t like Miss Katrina and his brother to have all the glory of the day, after all.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser Shooting 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

December 21, 2011 4:23 PM

Watching Helplessly by Renée Errant {Chaser}

She’d had a recent dream that silver strands of hair were braided into her curls, wound so tightly that she couldn’t take them out. Sometimes when she walked, her hips hurt, her calves felt strained, her legs shook, always almost giving out. Idly she’d lean on her elbow, pressing against the table or a desk, her fingers lightly stroking her own cheek or squeezing her neck, imagining the wrinkles and lumps of extra layers of skin that would soon form. These short scenes of memory played as one silent film strip across her mind as she watched the little Aladren girl steal her Quaffle and shoot off to the other side. Somehow Renée got lost in the whirlwind of bludgers, glints of gold, flap of blue and red robes. ‘I’m getting old.’ She thought. ‘I am old.’ Somehow her body had accelerated in age, and now she was feeble, and now she was useless, and now Crotalus was behind.

Nic to Sam, Sam to Linus, and Renée quickly grew bored of feeling bad, experimenting with a new emotion as she swerved a little closer to her teammate. “Ah, hell!” Russel Layne sped right in between them and shot off. Renée didn’t feel as lost this time, and showed no hesitancy, easily keeping up with Layne. She waited for her moment, dividing her attention between where Carey and McLevy placed themselves, but it soon focused entirely on Layne and his how his body moved. She liked knowing when people were going to pass, not just whom they were going to be passing to. She didn’t allow herself to blink, refused to miss the clues, wind brushing her eyes, heat watering them. The shifts in Layne’s weight, the tilts, the raising... ‘Now!’ Like a fish springing out of water, a huge massive force of Orca seizing her prey in the clear, unprotected sky, she pushed her whole body forward, lunging for the Quaffle.

“Ah, hell!” Too slow again, and she watched with rising frustration as Arthur Carey caught the pass, continuing toward Crotalus goals once more. ‘Get the pass. Get the pass. Get the pass.’ Her eyes never wavered from his form as she sped after him, weaving where he weaved, dipping in and out and through air currents, waiting for his arm to raise, his body to tilt, directed toward a teammate. ‘There he goes, there he goes, there he... ah, hell!’ She watched as Carey took a shot, following the spark of red as it sought an entry point of rounded metal. ‘Save it, save it, save it.’ Her mind burst with prayers for Nic, imagining his long arms stretching beyond the capabilities of man. She felt as if her talents, and the chance to prove them, now hung in suspension. She pinned her future success or continued failure (where had she been the last five minutes?) on the Quaffle’s fate; ‘If it goes in, then I’m going to be bad. If Nic saves, then I’ll be the best chaser ever.’

She felt like an Orca whale still, but on dry land, beating her tail helplessly on the beach, pinned by her own blubber, the mocking heat. Out of her element, she was no predator. But this was her element, air was her home, and yet she felt off. Sweaty, windswept, and fat. Water in her lungs, and everything she was doing was too slow. Every prediction she’d been making had happened in the past. ‘No more thinking. Go back to not thinking.’ She steadied her breathing, she clenched tightly to the wood. ‘Just an arrow. Fly straight, catch, pass, pass, shoot, and score.’ She waited for Nic to make the save. She waited patiently to be good again.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Watching Helplessly 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Nic Sawyer, Keeper

December 21, 2011 8:19 PM

Keeping by Nic Sawyer, Keeper

Thankfully, Sam got the Quaffle the heck of out of Dodge, as instructed. He passed to Linus and the would-be little Keeper got it even further away. Unfortunately, that was as far as it got before the Hawks swooped in and changed its direction again. Despite a valiant attempt by Renee to intercept, it was still coming his way after the Layne Chaser passed it off to the Carey Chaser.

At least Beater Carey was still off with the Seekers. Nic had nothing good to say about the last time Aladren's largest beater had taken an interest in him.

The Carey Chaser made as if to pass, but there was something - either a lack of commitment, or an instinct born from practicing with Sam and Renee, or maybe even a whisper of Talent that somehow foretold the true intent, or possibly just the good luck that had been sorely lacking on Crotalus's end so far this game - that made Nic ready himself for a shot at the goal. He didn't know which hoop the kid might go for, so he just weaved a little in front of the center one, and found himself already heading in the right direction when the Carey Chaser committed and made for the hoop to Nic's right.

Nic pushed his broom for a quick burst of speed that it could not sustain for long, but it didn't have to. He just had to close five feet, four, three, two, and he reached out, guiding the broom one handed as he stretched forward with not just his arm and hand but his whole body. It wasn't something he would have dared a year ago, and in truth it still wasn't something he felt comfortable doing, but he was at least reasonably sure of his balance enough now that he doubted he was in any danger of a fall.

He strained for it, pushing his broom - a school model, but one that was too long and unwieldy for most people to bother with so it was still in good shape - to its limits and got his hand in front of the ball just in time to smack it away.

"Ha!" he crowed in triumph even as he went after the Quaffle to recover the falling ball. Snatching it from the air, he rose up in front of his goals, victorious for the second time, and - after checking Kitty's position - threw it back into play in the direction of one of the red-clad chasers.

He began a weave in front of the goals again, keeping his inertia going, ready, this time, in case Aladren wanted to try their cheap shot again.

1 Nic Sawyer, Keeper Keeping 165 Nic Sawyer, Keeper 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

December 21, 2011 11:54 PM

I knew prayer would work by Renée Errant {Chaser}

There was an audible Slap and Renée’s eyes widened in delight, a loud cheer for Nic surprising her as it burst from her throat. He dove for the Quaffle and she rose quickly in the air, targeting one of the Aladrens who would indubitably try to regain possession immediately. Nic pulled his arm back and suddenly red streaked the air. Arms thrusting upward, she grabbed it with both of her hands, the darkly tanned palms pressed tightly against the red leather, catching the Crotalus Keeper’s pass. Quickly she curved her body, hugging the Quaffle to her chest, leaning with her whole being to the left, a sharp turn within the confines of the shouting/cheering/jeering stands. Back toward Aladren goals, regaining some of the ground that both Sam and Linus had pushed for earlier. It was time to put the pressure on the other side. Nicodemus Sawyer might not have been the best Keeper ever to grace Sonora Quidditch Stadium, but Renée was resolved to never think a negative thought (regarding his Keeper skills) about him ever again, and was resolved to keep the Quaffle away from him with even greater force and intention. Best to leave his record on a high note.

A wide smile had settled on her face, strands of her hair flinging over her neck, her cheeks, the dark curls brushing her spread lips. ‘Not as old as I feared.’ Tucking the Quaffle in the crook of her arm, a hand wrapped firmly around the sleek wood, she eyed her fellow chasers once more, back to feeling useful to the team. Darting out of the way of a bludger, feeling her arm loosen involuntarily, she rolled the ball alongside her so that her hand was pinning the Quaffle to the side of her hip, cupping the leather, ready to play harder - better - the best, as she weaved in and out of players, her body jutting out in different angles as her speed increased, trying to break away from a clump and gain some free air, and make a safe pass. The Aladrens had a lead of 10 - 0 which wasn’t a lot, but after three attempts at the goals, it was enough to make Renée nervous enough to be a little more cautious than usual. ‘Then again...’ Sensing conflict, her brain finally mercifully shut down, and Renée was left with nothing but broom, ball, body, and instinct.

On one side of her, a Crotalus chaser was free but she could spy the Aladren that looked about to pop up between them. On her other she flew with an Aladren already in between her and her teammate. She kept her movements subtle but clear; slight turn to the right, her left hand raising the Quaffle and preparing to throw, arm winding back and then flicked her wrist, the Quaffle free from her grasp - “Ha!” - her smile sank as an excitable grin rose, her right hand rising quickly, catching her own toss and cradling the Quaffle before throwing it hard, fast, with a gentle successful arch as it flew over the Aladren, hopefully caught by her teammate. Unable to babysit the ball any longer, she dropped in slight height to quickly circle and make a sharp stop in front of one of the Aladrens (past collisions hadn’t taught her not to) to block them, even if only for a few seconds. Her breathing was a little hitched, she still had all her energy, but she felt the game more in her heated blood, in her perspiration, in the tiny ache in her shoulders and arms. ‘Fine, I’m old.’ She conceded. ‘But still good.’

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} I knew prayer would work 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser

December 22, 2011 9:43 AM

Livin' on a prayer by Linus Macaulay, Chaser

Linus didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that his first pass off the game – of his Quidditch career – had been unsuccessful. Later, he was certain to revel in his failure, replaying the scenario over and over until he’d figured out what he could have done to prevent Aladren’s interception. Later, he would realize that a vast proportion of the school had seen him fail, had seen him display an indisputable lack of competency. Later, he would resolve to do better, to work harder, to focus more thoroughly, to not let other players get the better of him, regardless of their greater level of experience. Now, however, was hardly the time for reflection; Crotalus needed to make up for Linus’ mistake – he needed to make up for his mistake.

Aladren were currently in possession of the Quaffle, and taking it back towards Nic. Linus surprised himself by discovering he had faith in the current Keeper. While he’d heard bad stories about the fifth year, and had even signed up to try out for his position, the second year found himself acknowledging that a fifty per cent save rate on two goal attempts was not a horrendous statistic. He was certain that if the Quaffle should enter the scoring area again, Nic would do his team proud.

Nevertheless, it would undoubtedly be better to prevent the ball from getting that close in the first place. Aladren already had one goal, and Crotalus had yet to score. The Quaffle should be heading in the other direction, as it had been just moments ago. Yet while Linus wanted to do something spectacular to bring about this state of affairs, he seemed ill-equipped to do so. By the time he’d turned his broom around, Renee had already attempted an interception as the Quaffle passed from one Chaser to another, without much luck. If she, with her experience and faster broom, couldn’t manage it, Linus didn’t think he stood much of a chance of getting the ball back, either. Admittedly Renee was a girl, and he’d heard her speak in a foreign language, so she might not even be native to America, but Linus had to concede that these disadvantages did not seem to present much of a problem in terms of Quidditch skills.

All attempts at interception in vain, the Quaffle was soon leaving the hands of the second Aladren Chaser to have the ball since Linus, as moving towards the goals. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched – from a reasonable distance, having not made much headway at all in following the ball once it had changed direction – the red leather ball sail towards the hoops, and then the commendable save that brought a cheer from the crowd. Linus exhaled, relieved that his new-found faith in their Keeper had not been misplaced. Then, for a tiny fraction of a second, he considered continuing his progress into the fray to be nearer the Quaffle. In an immeasurably short amount of time passed before Linus realized the pointlessness of this venture; Renee was already flying back his way, the ball tucked safely under her arm. Reassessments made, Linus turned his own broom yet again, and made to continue once again on his path towards the Aladren-kept goals, those elusive hoops that had thus far seemed to repel the Crotalus Chasers. Perhaps not for much longer.

As his teammate approached, Linus readied himself to receive, in case he should be the best option. The Aladren chasers apparently had this uncanny ability to be everywhere at once – from his newcomer’s perspective, at least – and he couldn’t deny concern that without the shortness of Sam’s earlier pass, Aladren would be able to steal the ball back before Linus had a second opportunity to prove his worth. Therefore, when his eyes widened at the sight of the Quaffle soaring in a neat arc in his direction, Linus simply refused to panic, instead turning all instinctive reactions that accompanied that particular emotion into determination; the extra adrenaline and faster heartbeat combining to allow him to make a lunge for the ball unlike one he’d ever made before. Being in a game – his thoughts diverted, unbidden - was nothing at all like being in a practise. People did things they were not prone to doing, and committed acts that in usual circumstances would be prohibited by the consequences alone. In a practise, Linus might have let the Quaffle fall, with no fear of the opposition collecting the ball in his stead, and humiliating him for the second time. In this game, however, it didn’t occur to him for a moment that he even had the option of letting the Quaffle fall. He strained every muscle he had as he rose to collect it, aiming to pull in the ball to his shoulder with one hand (his other always occupied by its necessary grasp on the broomstick handle), but mis-judging by an inch or two and smacking the leather hard into his own chin. It stung from the impact in a numbing buzz, easy enough to ignore under the elating circumstances of having received the Quaffle.

His head took a moment to clear, by which time Linus had automatically made the transmission from catch to carry, tucking the ball safely against his own body as he flew onwards. Once again, the game seemed to be going in his team’s favour, but this time he didn’t have the naivety to believe with any certainty that it would last for long. Aladren had won the championship game for the previous two years, after all… but then Crotalus had been their opposition on both occasions. Linus knew that if they won the game today, Crotalus would likely rise to win the trophy. As it would also be the year he’d joined the team, Linus couldn’t easily pass on the opportunity to stress this to everyone he knew (and many he didn’t know at all). Therefore it was with a newfound courage that he managed to shift his weight to retain balance on his speeding broom as he gave a good look around for potential interception. He was by no means an expert, but having identified an opening, he felt reasonably confident that an Aladren wouldn’t be able to directly snatch it off course. Reasonably confident.

It was now or never. Linus lifted the ball once again to his chest, and made what was a relatively short pass to one of his fellow red-clad Chasers, his aim and strength as true as they had ever been, and with less wobble than he’d felt before.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Livin' on a prayer 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

December 22, 2011 6:38 PM

Shooting on a prayer by Renée Errant {Chaser}

‘You go, Penguin!’ Renée continued to speed forward, a little ahead of him, turning her head to make sure he still had possession. The goal posts were looming, the Aladren Keeper within clear sight, and Crotalus had the ball. Familiar excitement began to rise, her heart beating a little faster, a giddy feeling, an addictive heat that flushed her face. Quidditch wasn’t just a game, it was a life style; how she wanted to live her life. The rush, the ache, the thrill, the disappointments, all of it she needed and wanted, and would have. Outside of her misguided family, outside of the sometimes stifling boundaries of Sonora, outside of what the average imagination could comprehend. She would have it, because she wanted it, and she deserved to get what she wanted. Everybody did. Everybody deserved the family best suited to them, and Renée would have that one day. Creatures that would never leave, never betray her, never ignore her, never disappear for months on end without good explanation or flimsy excuse. ‘Birds of a feather...’ And she was reminded that she was flying now, too.

Both she and Linus neared one another again, leveling off, and Renée watched as he lifted the ball to his chest. ‘Aladrens coming, Aladrens coming...’ A second before he made the short pass she jutted a little more to the side, bending down, her chest pressed against the wood, her fingers grabbing the Quaffle with her peripheral vision, clear nails digging into the leather as she accelerated in an upward diagonal motion. Her arm struggled to rise to her side, encountering resistance from the air she was rushing through, a vacuum attempting to suck her up, eat her whole. She made it through though, the Quaffle gripped by her right, her eyes settled on the Keeper’s left. ‘I wonder how good you are?’ The question was pressing in her mind, almost politely intended, as if she’d invited him into her mind to hear that one thought, and expected him to answer back with an honest, Not good enough. After losing the championship to Aladren for a few years running, it was impossible to keep up the charade (it had been a true belief once) that they were just a group of extremely lucky nerds. They did have talent, and they worked extremely well together, that couldn’t be denied. But Nic had just saved a hard shot, Linus was new yet could make decent passes and keep up with more experienced players, and as these were the only two loose ends Crotalus had had, Renée was feeling pretty good about her team, and that confidence in them flowed into herself, strengthening and re-energizing her muscles, instincts, and skill.

Her upward diagonal flight brought her rising quickly in the air roughly between the Keeper’s right and middle goal posts, continuing to imagine herself an arrow, her whole being directed toward the middle goal hoop, that quarantined area between the metal that her Quaffle longed to break through. Her arm pulled back, her body twisted, her thighs clenched on her Febre, and she was ready to shoot, ready to score, her other hand releasing the wood to point toward the middle hoop, adding strength and purpose to her throw. ‘Feint!’ With minimal change in her body, her arm thrust through the air, the Quaffle released from her tight grip, and with a grin hiding behind her nervous determination, she saw that spin she’d intended for the ball take hold of it, its path curving away from the middle goal hoop, spinning fast toward the farther away left hoop.

The heat of the sun beat down on the back of her neck where her hair parted, and the Quidditch robes couldn’t cover. As tempting as it was to sink into the sun, let it lull her into a sweet coma, rock her gently back and forth... she was all too excited about simply making a shot against Aladren, putting pressure back on them. Before she could see the Keeper either save the Quaffle or watch her shot sail through, she flipped her broom over into a dive, zig zagging a few meters before making a sharp turn around, targeting an Aladren player from behind, readying for a future interception she could make once the Keeper threw the Quaffle back into play. Her eyes lingered on the goals. ‘Score, come on, score!’

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Shooting on a prayer 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Kitty McLevy - Chaser

December 22, 2011 9:50 PM

Seeing Red by Kitty McLevy - Chaser

Kitty blinked, and then blinked again before a great whoop of joy escaped her tiny frame. She did it! She’d made a goal. Her ecstatic thoughts left her blind to the action for what felt like only moments before she realized that the Quaffle had gone, and the reds had stolen it taking it far down the pitch while she’d been lollygagging and basking in the glory of one measly score. Darn it Kitty! Keep your head in the game you can’t lose focus like that just cuz things are going your way! The small girl sternly scolded herself as she twisted her broom around and darted after the now distant red ball.

For a second it looked like the tide had turned back in their favor when another assault was made on the Crotalus goals by Arthur before the Quaffle was again lost to the sea of red. She wasn’t quite fast enough to snatch the ball back from their new Chaser, and while she might have gotten one up on the older girl at the start of the game Kitty found her hard to thwart a second time and again missed her chance to regain the coveted ball. Come on, we can do better than this, get it together Kitty!

While Kitty had been busy with her pep talk and flying full tilt she wasn’t paying quite as much attention as a game such as Quidditch warranted. At least one played against people who might be crazy (even though it was usually her team that was named such she thought the Reds deserved a bit of the title as well). She’d been following the older girl who had the Quaffle closely and just as she threw Kitty started to accelerate in an attempt to catch the ball before it reached the other Crotalus.

In theory such a move would have worked beautifully, if the girl hadn’t been certifiable and hadn’t come to a DEAD STOP right in front of her! It took all of Kitty’s lithe skill, and she still almost wrenched one of her arms out of its socket as she twisted and forced her broom into a tight desperate plunge to avoid a full on collision with the older girl. Still she thought she felt shoes tease along her back as she plummeted. It was an amazing rush as her broom spiraled out of control and Kitty fought it to regain control.

Finally she was able to pull out of the spin Kitty was halfway to the ground and much lower than the rest of the players. Grumbling, and more than a little dizzy Kitty looked up and tried to track what the heck was going on. When she saw that the older girl had the ball again and was about to shoot Kitty (still dizzy) sort of forgot that she was suppose to be the Chaser, and was the Keeper no longer. Flinging herself recklessly up she tracked the red orb through the pristine blue. Somehow she managed to get between the goals and the ball. Unfortunately she wasn’t quite in time to actually get her hands up. The ball banged painfully against the side of her head before falling. “Ouuch!” Kitty yelped as she fumbled her attempt to catch the ball while ignoring the painful sting and ringing in her ear. A small kittenish growl escaped the tiny girl as it slipped though her grasp.

0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser Seeing Red 0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser

December 23, 2011 12:08 AM

Not anymore. by Russell Layne, Chaser

Out of the corner of his eye, no more than a second after it was too late to stop trying to pass, Russell saw Renée Errant trying to intercept. He started to shout, having no idea if he was trying to startle her or warn Arthur or just vent some of the frustration which sprang into being the moment he saw her, but before he could do that, Arthur completed the pass anyway, and she was out of it.

He smiled at her before continuing along after the Quaffle in case Arthur wanted to try another last-minute pass, feeling triumphant and slightly guilty about being triumphant, but mostly just triumphant. She got in the way a lot, and it was a pleasure to see her try to interfere as she always did and fail, even if his guess was that it was just brooms again. She still had, if he wasn’t mistaken, the same one she had when they’d started all this when he was a first year, she might have had it a year before that for all he knew, and he knew enough to know that in terms of fast brooms, four years was an eternity. He didn’t, now that the game was in his blood again, care how Aladren won, so long as they did.

As they drew near to the goals, he saw Arthur moving as though he were about to pass the Quaffle back to him, just like they had last time. Russell wasn’t sure what to think of that strategy, but he knew Renée was still just behind them, and so he’d better be ready to catch the ball and do something with it, even if that was just get real complicated and pass it right back to Arthur in an attempt to set some kind of school record for ‘shortest time holding the Quaffle before attempting a goal’ or something like that.

Except, it seemed Arthur had nothing like that in mind at all, and was playing the Keeper. It didn’t work, though. Things fell apart astonishingly quickly, so quickly that, despite being pretty sure he’d made an attempt to intercept, he wasn’t quite sure what had happened when suddenly, the Crotalus Chasers were up against the goals, and Renée was taking the shot. He hit his leg, frustrated….

And then Kitty was there, again, coming out of it with the ball…well, this time it didn’t end up in her hands, it bounced off her and fell, and Russell found himself reacting without thought, his brain registering that Kitty seemed out of it, that this made two of theirs who were no longer at top form, but his body, observing the narrow opening this gave the Aladren Chasers, just darting in to grab the Quaffle and move back down the Pitch with it. He turned quickly, flying fast to get away from the danger area of the goals and covering more ground than was probably strictly advisable himself to get them clear of it before attempting a pass to one of his teammates, before he got his neck broken for getting too far into the game and worrying too much about seizing on the advantage Kitty had handed them.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser Not anymore. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

David Wilkes, Keeper

December 23, 2011 12:48 AM

...What just happened? by David Wilkes, Keeper

Everything was too far away from David for him to be completely sure what was going on, who was doing what, at the other end, but he was able to figure it out easily enough when Aladren scored and clapped cheerfully. Crotalus got the ball, and it came back toward him for a second, but then Aladren seized it and hurried back toward Crotalus and there was another attempt at the goal – not successful, but still, two attempts in a minute or two. The game, it seemed, was going their way.

Until suddenly it wasn’t. How did the Crotali pull that off? They barely passed it at all. They should have had their brains all knocked out a long, long time before they got anywhere near him, but…they didn’t. And they didn’t because it looked like Arnold had been hurt – not bad, but hurt, which wasn’t great for their cause. He was the Seeker. David didn’t know Quidditch strategy intimately, he’d never really expected to play, so he’d never learned that much theory or whatever it was, but he knew that it was not good if the Seeker was hurt, and that this was really even worse than if anyone else was hurt, when it was pretty bad if any of them were.

Such as him. He would rather not get hurt, either. He thought the Beaters would go after the Chasers before they came after him, bit still: if the ball was in his court, people were going to do what they had to do to keep him from intercepting it as the Crotali threw it toward the goal hoops. Oh, this wasn’t going to be fun, no sir, this was not going to be fun if the Chasers didn’t stop this, and the Chasers and the Beaters allegedly on his side weren’t stopping this….

It was going to be the girl who shot, the one who was in his year but who David avoided like plague because of all the drama around her. Something about her put him off, he didn’t even know what. But he had heard about how she was in Quidditch in addition to seeing it regularly when he was watching games, and he knew that she seldom did what she appeared to do, so he knew better than to commit himself before the ball was actually leaving her hands….

…Wait, where did Kitty come from? And where did Russell come from, too, and…huh, now everything was going completely the other way again.

He was baffled by it, but not entirely displeased by this turn of events. It meant Crotalus wasn’t scoring, which meant Aladren was still in the lead. He was just a little baffled by things turning so quickly. He guessed that was the difference between watching from the bench for the past few years, or watching in the stands during his first year, and actually being out here and part of it. Big difference. He hadn’t decided yet if he liked it.

16 David Wilkes, Keeper ...What just happened? 169 David Wilkes, Keeper 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

December 23, 2011 1:07 AM

You succeed, believe me. by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker

Marissa drew a deep breath for one moment, thinking that it was over and she’d beaten the Bludger. Her shoulder ached, but she was going to be able to get around for the rest of the game, she was sure. She just wished Gareth and Topher would hurry up and put Arnold to a little more inconvenience, and quickly, so she would have an easier time of looking for the Snitch than he was having.

Though, as she looked at him, it seemed that he might already be having a harder time than she was. She couldn’t say she was too sorry about it. Not glad, at the moment, when she was a little sore herself, but not sorry about it, either. His loss was her gain, or at least it could be.

If another Bludger didn’t collide with her before she could even stop being dizzy from taking evasive measures against the last one. That could be seriously detrimental to any attempt on her part to take advantage of Arnold not being in the best possible condition. She dodged, managing to escape this one cleanly, to her relief as she settled in her new position and noticed the way her heart was suddenly pounding, as it often did even after all these years of running around with the Bludgers.

Still, she still had to find the Snitch, and it was still nowhere in sight. This was most un-obliging of it, and willing it to appear didn’t appear to work. Finally, for lack of a better strategy which would take her away from the Beaters and Bludgers and all, at least for a minute, she flew in the opposite direction from the action, then turned and flew in another direction, just moving away from everything on the Pitch as much as she could for a minute, noting gladly that the way things were moving seemed to be in a direction more favorable to Crotalus than the old one had been. Clearly, the Snitch wasn’t where she had been, so there was every chance it would now be where she was.

Looking around, she thought she saw something glimmer over the Aladren side of the stands and flew for it, not even looking at this point to see if Arnold had followed her. She didn’t have time for that. All she could do was hurry, and hope for the best once she got there.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker You succeed, believe me. 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

December 23, 2011 1:35 AM

Crotalus happened. by Renée Errant {Chaser}

‘... in, go in... go - ah, hell!’ Her body calmed down from its previous excitement, her fingers loosening from around the broom handle, watching McLevy shoot up into the air, slapping the Quaffle away from its rightful path. A little closer to the Quaffle than her, Layne dove for the ball, and she turned her broom around, quickly scanning the field for Carey and then urged her Febre toward him, aware that either she, Linus, or Sam had to win the very next chance of interception. Sending mental signals to Topher and Gareth - ‘Maim McLevy. Maim McLevy. Maim McLevy.’ - she fell back into the familiar pattern of tracking Arthur Carey.

Layne was pushing as far as he dared, not passing, and Renée grew tired of waiting, of playing passive, hoping he’d throw her a bone. She’d rather steal it, fight for it upfront. Abruptly, she switched targets, swerving away from Carey, toward the actual possessor of the ball. “Hola, Russel!” She matched his previous arrogant smile at her recent failure to intercept with flashing eyes and a wide white smile of her own, curls whipping around her face, red robes flapping over her knees, flying straight toward him, as if to collide. His arm was already half raised in a throw and her robes brushed against his as one arm darted out to the side to grab his pass. “And gracias!” Her body tightened around the broom, pushing off, back toward Aladren goals.

It was easy enough to regain the ground that they’d lost, dropping beneath most of the players, keeping herself straight and narrow, which was hard to do when all the time she felt bulging now, and lumpy. Nightmares about her skin sagging, her hair trickling off her scalp like heavy drops of rain. ‘No. More. Thoughts.’ She scolded herself, blaming a little of the heat and excitement for the morbid recreations of her dreams. Even through the frustration of not having had her shot go in (it always felt bad when the very first shot failed) there was still fun to be had, Aladrens to conquer, and new information to store. She was of the opinion that worrying over the Keeper to much inhibited him, dragged him down. Probably one of the reasons why Nic used to suck so much. McLevy making the save instead of Wilkes was a good sign. It showed an absence of confidence in him, which suggested he had an absence of skill. Not earth shattering commentary, but it boosted Renée’s morale.

Regaining most of the ground stolen from them, the goals again looming, tempting, enticing her to try again and try again, an old familiar teasing friend, Renée’s speed began to slow as she looked for a pass. ‘There he is.’ Finding one of her teammates above her, she jumped heights, a quick light pass over her shoulder toward him just before she passed him, rising in the air, waiting to push forward with him and exchange more passes until they could try to even and then supersede the current score. 'Come on, Crotalus! You go, Crotalus!'

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Crotalus happened. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Edmond Carey, Beater

December 23, 2011 2:01 AM

And it lost. As it always does. by Edmond Carey, Beater

This, Edmond thought, rubbing his shoulder in one of the few quiet moments, this was why he really hated playing Crotalus. The whole team had the excellent makings of black widows, because they’d run anyone who played against them nearly to death in their attempts to win. He supposed he shouldn’t say anything, though; his boys were just as bad. It was going to be another long match.

He saw the Crotalus Chasers streaking back down the field with the Quaffle, but his attention for the moment was on Arnold and Marissa, and he was well away from it at the moment, anyway, so he hoped Preston would intervene if the Chasers couldn’t retrieve the Quaffle themselves and left them to it for the moment. When he got things momentarily quiet again, though, he found the girl had apparently somehow gotten down the field without losing the ball or getting Bludgered – really, where was everyone else? – and he sighed and went for it, chasing a Bludger back into range and hitting it, as hard as he could, at the first red uniform he saw.

There was something to give them pause, anyway. Hopefully break some of their bones, since that was what was best for his team. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly. Which, right now, meant getting back to Arnold. At least that was one Bludger that was nowhere near his Seeker.

Honestly, he didn’t know if Arnold should even be playing – he’d never seen him seem quite this put off by a hit before – but Arnold was flying on as though determined to play the game out, so Edmond would leave him to it for now. He’d won when he’d been hit more than that, whereas Thaddeus was unproven, and they were Careys. It was part of the family culture, the family mythos, that one had to be extremely tough; Edmond personally thought it was at least a little wrongheaded, but those who took the family seriously, like Morgaine, seemed to find it of some comfort in adversity. If it worked for them, he wasn’t going to criticize it unless it seemed to cause more problems than it start –

…He was really going to have to have a word with Kitty, wasn’t he? She was going to get herself hurt badly if she kept up these stunts. If the Crotalus Beaters didn’t succeed in hurting her soon enough, the simple laws of physics which controlled the Crotalus Chasers, or just the Crotalus Chasers if they got annoyed enough, would do the job for them. Emotions started to run high after a while, especially as each team experienced injuries, unfavorable conditions, all the usual setbacks. Shaking his head, he hurried back to the job of guarding Arnold, trying to watch everything at once, looking for the next thing that he’d have to fight to keep Aladren on its feet and moving along the Pitch in this match.

0 Edmond Carey, Beater And it lost. As it always does. 0 Edmond Carey, Beater 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser

December 23, 2011 2:11 AM

It was inevitable by Arthur Carey, Chaser

Arthur had never been afraid of things that other people thought he had no right to know, and neither had he been very afraid of doing things he wasn’t supposed to do in order to gain that information. Indeed, the best way for anyone to get him interested in something was to tell him he could not know it, something he thought the family should have understood better, given the kind of people it tended toward and deliberately raised its children to be, though he was increasingly skeptical about just how much environment shaped personality and dispositions, considering the cases of himself and his two brothers, one of them his twin and so brought up from before birth in conditions identical to his own. But the family did not understand it, or did not want to – it was convenient for them that he be a third son, and so, like magic, he was to them, a third son of no importance who would never dream of stepping out of his assigned place – and so he had come to read a number of books of Grandfather Carey’s, which were very interesting and some of which were possibly plausible cause for an investigation.

Arthur toyed with the idea occasionally of using this information to blackmail the old man, but knew how unlikely it was to work – at best, the old man would either laugh at him or laugh at him and then give him a memory charm; at worst, the old man would have him killed for being so presumptuous – so mainly, Grandfather’s library was just a source of things he wasn’t supposed to know, a way to amuse himself when Anthony VI annoyed him in some way and he wanted to get a little of his own back in a way which was unlikely to be noticed by Anthony and so allow him to retaliate. One day, it might be different, but right now, Arthur knew that if it came to a direct confrontation, he would lose and Grandfather would win. So he learned just how rotten people were to each other and daydreamed about doing as much for his grandfather and then went back to being a good third son, despite being chronologically second.

Arthur was not a violent individual. The only people he’d ever really even idly thought about doing violent things to were his paternal grandparents, and, less seriously, to a few cousins when they refused to shut up and annoyed him dreadfully, or the occasional opposing player in Quidditch. At the moment, though, he was glaring at Mr. Wilkes around a Crotalus Chaser, hoping to convey in this look the nature of all the unpleasant things he knew and just how many of them he would be willing to test on David’s person if that Quaffle went through a hoop and allowed Crotalus to take away their lead.

Perhaps she caught the edge of his glare, or more likely not, but suddenly, Kitty appeared from nowhere and again changed the game, this time in true Aladren fashion, with her head. Admittedly, the Quaffle bouncing off her head wasn’t what most people thought of when they thought of Aladrens using their heads, but it amused him to exploit the technicality. As Russell fled with the Quaffle again, Arthur followed, covering his roommate in the expectation of a pass coming soon, so as not to invite Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Whitebriar to demonstrate for Edmond and Preston how their mutual position was to be played.

The pass didn’t come as soon as he expected, but it still came soon enough, and...Miss Errant intercepted it. Well, that was a complication he had hoped not to have, but not a major one.

In some respects, he found her very interesting. She always fought just as hard as if she didn't realize that she could not win. Every time, it was the same, her making tiny little gains for her team which ultimately meant absolutely nothing, since Aladren usually recaptured the ball with ease; by the time she got on form, they were also starting to enjoy the rough, unkind pleasures of the game, and would no sooner let her keep that Quaffle than they would hand their mothers over to the Aurors. Was she really so dull-witted as to realize that her flashy defiance just caught her a Bludger, that she was just going through the motions? Or was the defiance because she knew this? He would have been interested to know.

She didn't seem inclined to give an interview at the moment, though, so he had to content himself with watching for her pass. When it came, suddenly as usual but he had been keeping a close eye on her hands, he caught it without difficulty, smiling to himself at how things were once again going as well as he would like them to, much less could reasonably expect them to under Quidditch conditions. He turned, regained what they had lost, and covered more ground, bringing them nearly to the half mark which would take them back onto the Crotalus side of the Pitch and so, if it completed, closer to Mr. Sawyer than to Mr. Wilkes. Then, deciding to let another have the honor of crossing, he took his opportunity to pass, starting what he hoped would be a short, smooth arc of the ball from his hands into those of another Aladren, and then to the goals for a third time.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser It was inevitable 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

December 23, 2011 2:15 AM

I don't think I'm all that bad, either by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Arnold became aware that the Chasers were moving a lot more than they had been, which – the former Chaser in him thought absently – meant that Aladren must not have such a tight grip on the ball anymore. That was a pity, and if he had to guess, he would have put his money on his brother being annoyed by that. Arthur, he thought, wasn’t much of one for a fight; he liked for things to run smoothly, exactly the way he planned them. He would fight if he had to, but he would rather arrange things beforehand, or even at the time, so that his enemies just stepped aside like dancers who’d finished their parts.

Arnold didn’t think he was like that. He got impatient with trying to plan long term, and he enjoyed this, what he was doing out here, now. Fighting it out against someone as good or maybe better, just less lucky, than he was, not knowing until it was all over if he was going to come out on top or not. He liked to balance on the edge, tap-dance on it, even, and see how the dice fell. It was fun for him, he felt alive doing it.

That was how he felt as he saw Marissa moving and moved after her, flying fast to catch up, and then looked around and realized that he was no longer being covered by Edmond. His cousin the Beater, his cousin the leader, was no longer right there to protect him, and he was on his own, soaring through the air and risking it all on the chance he could put her between himself and the firstie Beater, or his old enemy the other Beater, before they could catch up with him and Bludger him into a mush.

He saw Marissa turn and overshot, going past where she had turned and so, for a minute, was going off in a completely different direction. He pulled his broom around, though, and followed her, catching up as she began to move as though to go for the Snitch. He was, with the last time they had been in close quarters still vivid in his mind every time he noticed his leg, a little more cautious this time, though, and decided not to commit to pulling ahead of her until he could see the Snitch for himself; they were close enough now that he could outrun her without trouble the second he wanted to, and he didn’t want to crash into the stands. That might hurt people, and they were just here to have fun. They didn’t come to get hurt; that was the players. They had signed on for that, the audience hadn’t, and whatever anyone wanted to say about what that said about the players or the audience members, that was just how it was.

For now, he kept a wary eye out for Beaters, determined to use his superior broom to dart around Marissa the second he thought he was under attack so that the Bludger which was supposed to come to him from one side would instead hit her, since by then he intended to be completely on the other. Without Edmond right there, at least this second, to babysit him, he had to think for himself about how to stay intact; he guessed it was good practice for next year, when Edmond would be gone and he’d be more or less on his own, without a Beater the size of a mountain to take care of him through the games each and every time they played.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker I don't think I'm all that bad, either 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser

December 23, 2011 9:34 AM

Or perhaps it was inedible by Linus Macaulay, Chaser

Once again, there was that short period of elation as Linus made a successful pass to one of his fellow Chasers. Maybe the whole school wouldn’t be laughing at him later, after all. He hadn’t participated in the great a great deal as of yet, but there was no denying that this most recent volley of passes between him and Renee was admirable to say the least. If his performance only continued to improve then perhaps Crotalus would win this game more easily than Linus had first anticipated. He’d never doubted that they could win; he’d just believed it would be a great deal of effort. After all, it was common knowledge that the Aladren team were certifiably insane.

A few minutes later, Linus could fully appreciate why everyone thought the Aladren team was nuts. Katrina had tried to play both Chaser and Keeper, and had let the Quaffle hit her in the head. Then one of the older Chasers had collected the Quaffle, and taken it back down the pitch for longer than Linus would have dared, even with the beaters being more or less occupied with the Seekers, as they were at present. It was frustrating, not just because he’d only moments ago decided that Crotalus had a good grasp on the game, but because yet again he had to work on turning him broom around to go and reclaim the ball. All this to-ing and fro-ing was impractical, not to mention an inconvenience when one was doing his best to get the ball up the other end of the pitch. That was what sport was all about, though – being hindered by the opposition. It wouldn’t really be competition otherwise, and Linus knew this logically, but right now logic didn’t seem to be featuring much in his harried mind.

Having worked to turn his school broom around once more – it wasn’t all that battered compared to some of the more ancient-looking sticks; perhaps there had been a new supply fairly recently in history – Linus focussed his efforts and attentions on the Quaffle as it swapped hands from Aladren, briefly to Crotalus, and then back again to a blue-clad Chaser, getting progressively closer to Nic’s goals. Linus thought he might be able to intercept. His broom wasn’t as fast as the others, but in the time that had elapsed when Renee held the ball, Linus hadn’t altered his course, and so he managed to somehow be in the right place at the right time to work on intercepting a pass from one of the Aladren Chasers. This wasn’t something Linus would normally attempt; interceptions often ended in injury, and he wasn’t so confident in his own skills to put them to that sort of rigorous testing on a regular basis. From time to time, however, it was his role as Chaser to undergo calculated risk. As he’d been engrossed so intensely watching the Quaffle move, he felt almost drawn into it, as if the two of them had an affinity of sorts, uninterruptable and irrepressible. He moved towards it, like a moth to a flame – a super-speedy moth towards a red leather flame. The ball flew from blue Chaser’s hands, and an unexpected by-product of Linus’ singular motive was that he was unaware of the approaching Bludger until it smacked the back of his broomstick smartly, missing his rear end by mere millimetres. His instinct was to cling on for his life as he spiralled out of control, being only semi-conscious of the Quaffle that bounced freely off his spinning person, and the sharp cracking sound as his broomstick spilt not quite in two.

Desperately fighting the urge to vomit once more, Linus clenched his knees and teeth, and pulled up on his handle to bring himself out of the spin. He had no idea what had happened to the Quaffle, or whether his interference had helped or hindered his own team’s progress. His aim for the moment was to force his head to stop spinning and to assess the damage to his own broomstick. He felt fine himself – the rebounding Quaffle hadn’t hurt and the Bludger hadn’t caused any damage to his person – so he didn’t think there was a real need for an alternate player to join the game, but if his broomstick wasn’t going to co-operate then it would be better for the team if an alternative vessel could be substituted, and he wasn’t at all sure whether this was compatible with the rules.

So far his first game had been a real trial of his commitment to the sport. If every game was this eventful, Linus could perceive two potential outcomes: either he would tire of excessive effort for little apparent reward, and throw in the proverbial towel ahead of his graduation, or, conversely, he would be spurred on by the sweet scent of victory, close enough to sample its fragrance only, but not yet its taste. Victory was a strong encouragement, even to the weak, and Linus did not fall under that category in any given circumstance. It was entirely possible that the outcome of this one game alone would be a determining factor in his decision regarding his continued position on the team. Then again, if he managed to hang on to playing Chaser for another two years then his coveted position of Keeper would eventually become vacant, and Linus thought that, even with the added pressure of being solely responsible for the goals scored or otherwise by the opposition, remaining in more or less one place would be infinitely preferable to all this chasing up and down the pitch like an inept sheepdog.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Or perhaps it was inedible 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Kitty McLevy - Chaser

December 23, 2011 10:54 AM

Perhaps, mine now though by Kitty McLevy - Chaser

Lucky for Kitty her fellow Chasers were on the ball and her fumble didn’t result in the Reds getting the Quaffle again. How embarrassing that would be, to save it only to give it right back to the enemy. Her ear was still ringing slightly, but the annoying sound was finally starting to fade, but it still stung. That girl threw really hard. Note to self: do not stop Quaffles with your head Kitty snorted on a laugh as she re-orientated herself into the game. Before shooting off down the pitch Kitty threw a wink and a grin over her shoulder at David. She hoped there weren’t any hard feelings for her momentary lapse.

Russell managed to save her little fumble, and began a brilliant run down the pitch. Finally having gotten her head on straight Kitty flung herself joyfully down the pitch, the sting and embarrassment of her fumble forgotten in favor of the wind. Unfortunately she hadn’t been able to get into position fast enough and again the Quaffle was stolen. The crack of bat on Bludger caused the small girl to veer and glance around only to grin when she saw it wasn’t aimed in her direction but at the meddling Reds.

Darn it! That girl had stolen the ball again! Sky blue eyes locked on the red robed female, deciding to call her Queen of Thieves seems that’s what she clearly was. It was a good thing that Arthur was spot on and managed to take it right back before it got too far down the field. Swift as the wind Kitty positioned herself for the next pass. The Quaffle arched and before she could reach it a Red got in the way, but he’d forgotten a vital rule to Quidditch, always always watch out for the Bludgers. You could never get so focused that you forgot the danger…or you ended up as he did and spinning with a broken broom. At least it was only the broom and not his head.

But that left the Quaffle free, if falling and Kitty dove after the coveted ball before any more reds could take it into their heads to try and steal it again. Her small hands snapped the ball up out of the air and Kitty, keeping her eye out for any Bludgers that might be sent her way, flew swiftly back towards the goals. Finally again past the half way mark and firmly back in Reds territory Kitty spotted a blue not far behind her. The ball flew, and Kitty hoped the QoT would keep her hands off it this time.

0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser Perhaps, mine now though 0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

December 23, 2011 11:15 AM

Watching and Waiting by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

Gareth backed off, and even sent a wayward bludger towards one of the Aladren chasers though he was too far away to actually give it enough force to keep the thing focused and it changed course going its own way. That didn’t matter overly much, it was simply a ruse anyway. If the game continued on for too much longer he would probably focus on the chasers in truth, but at the moment he simply wanted to give the impression that he no longer presented a continuing threat to the blue robed Seeker. The Aladren Captain was more skilled and had the size advantage. Until he was out of the way Gareth knew that any further shots towards the Seeker simply gave the experienced player more ammunition to use against his own Seeker.

It appeared his ruse worked as the large Beater decided to intervene in the Chasers affairs, leaving his Seeker free for Gareth’s attention. Unfortunately it also appeared that the blue Seeker realized this unfortunate fact and was keeping too close to his Captain for a shot. There was a single instant where the blue Seeker had over shot and been alone, unfortunately a Bludger hadn’t been near enough at hand for Gareth to exploit the moment. Pale blue eyes surveyed the Seekers and Gareth waited, this time tracking not only the Seekers but a bludger as well.

He waited with calculating patience for a mistake, for the blue Seeker to forget for just long enough, or for his Seeker to put enough distance between them that she’d no longer be at risk if he did take a shot. The window wasn’t going to be open much longer, Gareth was sure. The large Beater would be keeping a sharper eye on him after he managed to strike his Seeker once, and Gareth didn’t want to lose this opportunity to make his move without the Seekers guardian so near. Come on Miss Stephenson, notice me, notice the lack of other Beaters, catch the snitch or distance yourself Gareth thought fiercely as he watched the pair make their run.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater Watching and Waiting 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser

December 23, 2011 1:26 PM

And now mine by Arthur Carey, Chaser

For a moment, it seemed that Crotalus’ new Chaser, Mr. Macaulay, who, it had to be admitted, had been doing very well for himself so far, would muck things up again, but then something else happened to render his attempt at interference as ineffective as, ultimately, his friend Miss Errant’s had been. The ball made it to Katrina, and Arthur flew on, content.

He was fascinated, once more, with the emotional reactions the game could bring out. He knew that it had its ups and downs; he knew that very well. Even a game which was, for the most part, dominated easily was going to usually involve some small, brief reversals, some times where the other team seemed to gain an inch, but these didn’t break the pattern. Crotalus was a game where it mattered a little more if the opposition seemed to get its feet back under it at all, but still: they had never lost to Crotalus, at least since his brother had been playing Seeker. Arnold was better than Miss Stephenson, or at least Edmond was better than Mr. Calhoun; this was a recognized fact. Even the Crotali could not deny that very well anymore, not after the past few years.

Occasionally, it struck him how very pointless all of what they were doing down here was. They fought over that little ball like dogs over a single bone, they took injuries, they ran themselves ragged by the end of the game as often as not…and for what? It all came down, ultimately, to the Seekers. He had read of cases where the team which did not catch the Snitch still won the game, but those were cases where there was a huge imbalance in Chaser performance, likely an equally uneven situation with the Keepers, and it was almost always at the professional level. It wasn’t going to happen in one of these games; the teams were close enough to equal, Aladren only having a slight advantage in all fields, and he suspected the Snitches were enchanted somehow to keep the game from going on too long, which would likely keep the game from going on long enough for one of them, short of the other’s Keeper and all its reserves ending up in the hospital with fractured skulls, to get enough points to manage it anyway. So really, the game could have just been Arnold, Miss Stephenson, and the four Beaters; as far as he could tell, all the rest of them did was give the Beaters more things to look at, to keep it all in confusion, so everyone couldn’t see each other at once. There was no other point, and the only way for there to be would be to end the game some other way, or at least reduce the points attached to the Snitch.

That, though, he was reasonably sure, was heretical thinking, and his own brother would be at the head of the mob tying him to a stake if he ever voiced such thoughts aloud. It was the tradition that the Snitch ended the game and was worth a hundred and fifty points, in memory of the hundred and fifty galleons, then a fortune, attached to the first game in which something like the notion of the Snitch arose. The game was going to be what the game already was, there was no question of that, and no real use in thinking on the matter, either.

Katrina crossed the line, then went past it, and then passed again to Arthur. He caught the ball, his face relaxing for a moment into an almost conspiratorial smile, and hen he began to fly more erratically to shake off any attempts by the Crotalus Beaters to retaliate for this trouble-free pass. Coincidentally, he hoped it might also make him harder for the Crotalus Chasers to track. Finally, though, he settled next to one of his fellows and passed again, biting his lip slightly in concentration and hoping Aladren should have the same good fortune in crossing the whole Pitch very quickly as Crotalus had the last time around.

They’d have it back before it got to Mr. Wilkes again if they did not, of course. Or else Katrina would be her own dear, not quite sane self and retrieve it for them from the very front of the goals again. One way or another, though, it was going back through the Crotalus goal hoops. He would have liked more than anything for them to score fifty points, so they could round the game off at an even two hundred, but right now, twenty would do very well, he thought. Twenty was a good start for them. He would take that for now, once this bit of business was done and he was either watching for another pass or stealing the ball back for Aladren.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser And now mine 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Kitty McLevy - Chaser

December 23, 2011 2:39 PM

And mine again by Kitty McLevy - Chaser

For a few minutes it became a fun little game with in the larger game. Kitty played keep pace with Arthur as he twisted and turned while carrying the Quaffle deeper into the Red zone. It was a good tactic to keep annoyed Beaters from targeting them as well as keeping the thieves away. She kept close enough that if he chose to pass she would be there to receive it, but didn’t get so close that they risked collision with his erratic movements. It was great fun watching closely, trying to predict when the next weave would come and being ready to mimic him.

His tactics seemed to be working as they kept away from the Crotalus players both Chasers and Beaters. While her bit of fun was just that, she made sure to pay attention and not allow her focus to become lost in her little game. On the Pitch it seemed like nothing else existed, just them, the enemy team, the balls and the goals. She didn’t know how long the game had gone on for but for as long as it existed this was all Kitty knew. Quidditch became its own world were nothing else truly held sway besides the game. For a moment she wondered if it was the same for everyone. Where all the lines blurred and became unnecessary, unacknowledged. Blood, gender, race, religion, these things were meaningless, falling away, unable to hold on to the players as they flew. It was brilliant, and Kitty threw herself fully into the magic that was Quidditch. She secretly hoped the Snitch was never caught.

Again the crimson ball was flying and Kitty snatched it gleefully out of the air before tucking it almost lovingly against her chest. After having her fun with Arthur’s twisting path Kitty decided to shot forward in what was a more dangerous but much faster straight line, relying on speed and her slight build to keep her safe as she demolished the distance between her and the goals. So fast, it was almost hard to keep her eyes open in the biting wind, but Kitty couldn’t keep the grin from her lips as the three hoops loomed before her and their guardian focused on her. Kitty shifted her weight fast appearing to aim at the far right hoop before suddenly shifting with such force that she almost flipped off her broom and throwing as fast as she could to another team mate.

0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser And mine again 0 Kitty McLevy - Chaser 0 5

Preston S., Beater

December 23, 2011 4:26 PM

Here Bludger, bludger, bludger by Preston S., Beater

10 – 0 in favor of Aladren. That was Preston was talking about! Aladren’s superiority on the pitch was obvious and everyone that tried to say otherwise was just mad or stupid. There were no questions about the best house at the school. Aladren had academic and sports on its belt, and he was proud of being part of it. He couldn’t phantom the idea of being part of another house, maybe Crotalus, but the idea just made him shudder. No, Aladren was the best thing that could have happened to him. There was no question about Preston’s allegiance or his pureblood superiority theories. Of course, he could agree on some half-bloods or muggleborns being good but not enough. Purebloods were better. The redhead wasn’t an extremist when it came to his ideas, but they existed.

Anyways, the game was still going and they still were winning by 10. He was sure Arnold would catch the snitch and make the whole team proud. He was proud of his team and really hoped to be the one to captain it when the time came. Though, the captain title wasn’t as important as Prefect and Head Boy. Preston would gladly give it up for any of the other two titles.

The wind was buzzing in his ears and the adrenaline was making the calm boy get all excited about what he was doing. There was no question about his love for the game. He had tried to just see it as a step for his greatness, but he was now hooked on it. He knew he wasn’t the best out there, but he practiced hard to do a good job.

The redhead cleared his throat and zoomed after a bludger that he had seen not too far away. He weeed while he flew after that. If someone saw him in this elation state his whole reputation would go down the drain. He was lucky there was none one near him. He reached the bludher and whacked it with his bat. The bludger was directed at the closest Crotalus chaser.

0 Preston S., Beater Here Bludger, bludger, bludger 0 Preston S., Beater 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

December 23, 2011 4:56 PM

Here Quaffle, Quaffle, Quaffle by Renée Errant {Chaser}

Her pass intercepted and, it seemed, one Crotalus chaser down. Renée couldn’t really be sure, her eyes not allowed to linger upon Linus for too long, trusting that if it were anything really serious, Coach Pierce would help him, and then either Paul or Cepheus would take his place. Not that she really wanted to lose the Penguin. He worked well enough with her and Sam. The Aladrens were passing the Quaffle back and forth, speeding back toward the tall goal posts and Nic who hovered between rings, guarding them. Her teeth unconsciously sank into her tongue, heart thudding, unable to stand the thought of another Aladren goal. The game felt a little like a magnet; she, Linus, and Sam dragged the Quaffle as far as they could, but eventually it came back to Crotalus goals on its own, unable to fight magnetism, its natural attraction to one end of the pitch. ‘Which only means I have to drag even harder.’

McLevy, Carey, McLevy - and Renée saw her prepare to take the shot, teeth sinking deeper into her tongue, the rush of salt and hints of iron. ‘No. No. No.’ She just didn’t want it, didn’t like it, didn’t like seeing this girl take this shot in this game. ‘Game... right, this is a game.’ It was only a game when she knew she could play forever and ever and ever. But this was elimination. If they lost this game, she wouldn’t be able to play until the next year. In most other schools, and in Professional Quidditch, teams accumulated points through snitches caught and goals scored, and then were ranked by their number of points, not eliminated after losing just one game. In most schools, all the houses played each other, each house allowed to participate in more than just one game per year. Sonora seemed to reject this long ago well established and fair system of Quidditch, which was only fine when Crotalus had been set up against weaker teams and had then gone on to play Aladren. Renée had at least gotten to play two games a year, no matter if she lost the championship. But now, here, this was what Teppenpaw and Pecari must feel like all the time. ‘Unjust. Unjust. Unjust.’

She knew there was nothing she could much do at this angle behind McLevy, speeding after her, the end of the girl’s broom brushing the handle of Renée’s. She pulled back a little, swerving to the right so that Nic could catch the Quaffle either before it sailed through the hoop or after, and toss it up to her. ‘Come on, Nic. You can do it. Save it again!’ Intake of breath, and then McLevy turned, throwing the ball a few feet away from Renée but close enough for her body to form into an instant dive, her hand reaching to grab the red leather bound ball, and suddenly - ‘Yes!’ - shooting off - ‘Yes!’ - it was a game again. A pleased, and relieved, smile played on her lips, curving sharply around a bludger that was heading in the opposite direction, rolling over on her broom a few times to avoid an aggressive opposing player. She tucked the ball under her arm, and blinked away a stray lash that had slipped from over her lids. Her vision dimmed momentarily, enough so that when she looked around for Linus, she couldn’t tell if he was on his broom and able to continue contributing to the game or not. Unsure, she kept on flying, chest to the wood, knees clamped and beginning to stiffen, she was grateful to her broom for getting Crotalus a substantial amount of field away from their own goals.

CRACK

There was another bludger, actually hit in her specific direction, and besides a vague sense of where she’d heard the sound, Renée was blind to its location. The memory of being attacked from behind, an Aladren’s beaters bat hitting a bludger directly into the back of her head throbbed painfully, as if the memory was reenacting itself on her flesh and bone. Not eager to relive that particular experience (blacking out and blood, not so much fun) quickly picked a direction and sped off. “Ah!” A slight hiss, moving just a tad slow, the bludger coming from the side and slamming into her thigh.

She went with the force, swerving to the left, the bludger ricocheting off her body and targeting some new random player. Teeth returned to tongue, sinking and digging, and she resisted the tears, her face turning a little red beneath the darkened skin, sweat beading her forehead. Still, her arm’s cradling hold over the Quaffle had only tightened, and Renée could deal with the pain, her left leg perfectly all right, tightening around the wood, giving her balance. ‘Pain! Pain! Pain!’ There was no point in getting upset about bludger beatings. They were apart of the game, everyone knew what they were getting into. ‘I’m gonna murder that mother &*($#@!’ Controlling her temper could only be achieved by continuing to fly, and a new recklessness emerged, summoned by the suddenly pounding, twisting pain in her bones, tremors in her right thigh.

She swerved away from the stands, ignoring whatever insults or encouragement the students had to offer from below, her teeth graduating from tongue to lower lip, stifling any whimpers that might’ve wanted to explode from her body. ‘This is nothing compared to back of my head, at least. And I came back from that.’ Her eyes, clear of tears but flashing with a determined brightness, locked in on one of her fellow Crotalus chasers. She sped closer toward them, her left leg and right arm jerking the Febre up, attempting to use her body again as a barricade against the Aladren chaser nearest to her (she was already damaged, might as well get over fear of being hurt) and made a neat drop pass right over her teammate. ‘Go!’ The shout was the only thought in her mind.

She had no idea how the seekers were doing. Marissa was good, was captain, and yet had managed to lose to Arnold Carey every game they’d played. It was infuriating to leave the game to them, after all - Renée shut her mind down, seeking desperately for the permanent button, needing herself not to think a single thought at all besides pass, pass, catch, shoot, score, grab again. Not too far away, but not of immediate danger to her, was another bludger plummeting through the air. Mentally printing out a list of names - seven guesses who - getting rid of the thoughts that way, Renée sent out her wish that Gareth and Topher would just take a short break from the seekers and help out the rest of the team either by defending them (‘Pain, ow. Pain! Pain! Pain!) or maiming their pick of Aladren. She turned to look to where the Quaffle had gotten to, to head off into where she’d be needed next.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Here Quaffle, Quaffle, Quaffle 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 23, 2011 9:54 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

It doesn't like you, and will bite if you keep that up by Arthur Carey, Chaser
Another smooth pass. Very good. He had been right; the Crotalus advances were really only momentary breaks in the inevitable pattern, which would correct itself without difficulty in a moment. This was an easy game so far, and a moment of effort now and again would just give it a bit of spice, not run the risk of derailing it all of a sudden.

He thought Kitty would be the one to attempt the shot, but then, tiresomely, Miss Errant decided to interfere once more. Silly thing; there was no way, this close, now that her group had showed its hand too strongly and gotten Aladren on its guard again, that they would ever permit her to make it far. As Preston quickly proved in high fashion, hitting her solidly with a Bludger. Arthur would have stopped to applaud, if he’d had any time for that. He would have to express his congratulations later, once it was over and that wouldn’t be to perhaps hand Crotalus an opening again.

Though, if Preston succeeded in giving her a head injury bad enough to take her out of the rest of the game, Arthur might applaud him as she fell anyway. She usually did begin to annoy him about the third time she did this, and he would rather not get annoyed. Being annoyed clouded his judgment, and he wanted to think clearly, and act in the best way possible, not be driven by emotions which would get his head cracked open if he wasn’t lucky.

Before, Miss Errant had passed over her shoulder; now, she dropped it. Arthur wasn't sure why. The whole school was on to her liking for dropping things especially, so there was little advantage to it since usually all three opposing Chasers, if they had any wits and were in the physical condition to do it, would be covering her completely, and it was less controlled, too. It was easier for someone to do exactly what he was doing right now, and come in from the side and snatch the ball right out of its intended line and into his own hands, completely ruining the play the Crotali had been trying to make. Really not very clever of them, to give him the chance twice now, though he didn't complain of it. Anything they wanted to do to help his team was welcome.

Admittedly, it wasn’t as smooth as he might have liked for it to be. He nearly collided with the Crotalus Chaser the ball had been meant for; there were disadvantages to being the biggest of the three Aladren Chasers, and having bits of him in more places than a smaller person would was one of them. A firm control of his broom, though – flying wasn’t his delight, the way it was his brother’s, but he had been taught to do it almost as soon as he’d firmly mastered walking, as someone higher up, probably not his father given that he was better than Father, had decided he must – kept that from happening, and he was soon right back on the course they had been following to begin with, drawing nearer and nearer to the goals before passing again.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser It doesn't like you, and will bite if you keep that up 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 23, 2011 11:06 PM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

I find all your personifications of the balls disturbing. by Sam Bauer, Chaser
For a minute, he had been on the outside, looking in, but that had been perfectly okay because Linus and Renée had everything in hand. Sam wasn’t too picky about how the Quaffle made its way back down the Pitch, so long as it did. They needed to make up the ground they’d just lost when Aladren had scored, and scored like that especially. He would have bet his bottom galleon on the Aladren Chasers laughing at them as Nic didn’t see Kitty McLevy coming from that angle.

After all, Sam had been in a repeated assault on the goals before. On the other side. Back against Pecari, two, three years ago, he and Charlie and Renée had all had a good time going for Starbuck Gregory time after time, completely ignoring the Pecari Chasers and the Pecari Beaters. He guessed this was what he got for enjoying that, for how amused they’d all been with Pecari’s complete helplessness: that now Aladren should do the same thing to Crotalus. Though, thankfully, not to the same extent, letting the ball move again after just two goal-side shots.

That, though in its turn, was of small comfort when the Aladren Keeper didn’t even have to bother to Keep. And then things fell apart for Crotalus very fast, with Linus spiraling out of control in the attempt to interfere, then Renée getting hit in one which succeeded, but only as long as it took Arthur Carey to recollect it, nearly hitting Sam in the process. There was something almost insultingly casual about the way Aladren recovered from everything Crotalus could throw at them.

Now would be a great time for the Beaters to show up. Really great. Because he, Sam, was currently the only Crotalus Chaser who had yet to run afoul of the Aladren ones, and they could use the help right about now.

In the meantime, he dove for the Quaffle when Carey passed it, knowing it was a slim chance it would really do any good, but willing to try now anyway. There wasn’t, after all, anyone else left, and he felt like taking his turn to take a strike against them, anyway, if the Beaters weren’t feeling it at this moment.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser I find all your personifications of the balls disturbing. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser
December 23, 2011 11:39 PM

Russell Layne, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 13

Moving on. by Russell Layne, Chaser
OOC: So, I managed to completely forget to end Sam’s post and, despite using the preview window, not notice this until after hitting ‘post reply’. So here goes assuming I can semi-write for my other characters in Quidditch threads to fix that. BIC:

Russell had been the one to carry the Quaffle back into Aladren hands, taking advantage of a moment, but, as usual, Kitty and Arthur were the stars of the show, moving it back down the field. They should have all been pulverized, just as the Crotalus team should have been pulverized before them, but instead, it was the Crotali who were now taking all the damage, two of them by the time they got almost back to Nic Sawyer. It seemed that Aladren still had the luck.

Not that Crotalus cared, of course, or gave up just because they were kind of at a disadvantage now, with only one first-string Chaser who hadn’t just taken a pretty rough beating. Reneee Errant managed to carry the Quaffle a way even though she got hurt, and Arthur’s recovery of it could have been smoother, and then, as Arthur tried to pass it once more, Sam Bauer…didn’t really manage to intercept it, but he did manage to knock it off-course, out of the pass Russell’s team- and roommate seemed to have meant for it.

Russell could hear him muttering about this, not sounding best pleased, as Russell passed him, not intending to sit back when Crotalus had succeeded in fumbling and so leaving the Quaffle right up for grabs to whoever could get his hands on it the quickest. Maybe he had a talent for this; he wasn’t sure. Anyway, he came out of his dive for the falling Quaffle with it in his hands, and he decided not to take any more chances this close to the goals. He wasn’t going to pass – he wasn’t completely sure about trying to feint, using the tactic which had failed for them last time, again, but he was definitely not going to pass for real. He was going to make an attempt to score another goal for the Hawks.

He came toward the goals more toward the left hoop, raising his hands as though to shoot toward it, before changing directions fast enough that he felt momentarily a little goofy-headed even as he shot for the center, throwing the ball as hard as he could, putting his whole body into throwing it and setting his balance just enough off that he worried for a second about actually falling from his broom. That wouldn’t be very good…

He wavered for a moment, trying to steady himself. For a second, it occurred to him to just let himself fall; it would make the whole thing, whether he scored or not, kind of funny, but it might also distract the Keeper. Then, though, after only a split second of contemplating, he knew he didn’t quite have the nerve for that, he wasn’t that far gone with the Quidditch craziness yet, so instead, he grabbed the broom, sending it forward at the same time, and turning as though it were all part of regaining his balance, hoping this would (in addition to legitimately helping him not fall; turning so fast and then throwing so hard had made his head feel weirder than he thought at the time) distract the Keeper anyway. He just needed the guy to be thrown for one second, that was it, that was all it would take –

He reversed, moving back into the phalanx of Chasers. By now, it had either worked or not worked, and he disliked presenting such a nice target for the Beaters when it wasn’t even at all possible it was going to help. Plus, that put him in all the better position to turn and run after the Quaffle, or play with it depending on what happened with it, once it was soaring back out and the game began again.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser Moving on. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
December 24, 2011 7:48 AM

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Must we? by Linus Macaulay, Chaser
He had stopped spinning. He felt that his skin might be closer to gray than its usual rosy shade, perhaps even tinged with the faintest hint of green, but Linus ascertained himself to be otherwise unharmed. As for his broomstick, it was obviously a fairly sturdy build, he thought, as he firmly guided it to re-join the fray and it obeyed… though not without quarrel. It shuddered as it turned with far less control than it had at the beginning of the game, and it vibrated with a humming regularity that threatened to numb his arms and wrists when it flew straight. Its speed, however, seemed relatively unaffected. Admittedly, as a player with perhaps a limited amount of control and balance compared to his more experienced counterparts, it could be argued that an unstable broomstick was now bestowed in the worst possible hands to facilitate a Crotalus victory, but the second year felt sufficiently competent to continue.

As he regained his bearings, he quickly established that while his ricocheting Quaffle had eventually landed in Aladren’s hands (all that for nothing? What a disappointment!), Renee, relentless as ever, had apparently just stolen the ball back again. Linus encouraged his broom into a wide sweeping circle as he moved to join his teammate again in their never-ending struggling to carry the Quaffle back up to the other end of the pitch. He hoped to be in a position to receive a pass soon, but he watched from behind as another Bludger (or was it the same one?) caught a second Crotalus Chaser. This time, the damage seemed less detrimental to the game, but having caused more injury to the player. Linus decided that, as personal preference, he preferred to forgo the pain and settled for putting the game at risk, and briefly considered that this might indicate he had some work to do on his attitude towards team sports.

To her credit, Renee continued to play as if she hadn’t been hit, and Linus saw what he initially believed to be an opportune pattern, of Sam coming in below Renee to receive a pass, and Linus himself well placed to come up round whichever side of Sam seems to be optimum (interpretable as whichever side is least hindered by presence of Aladren players) to receive a second pass. But of course, what initially seemed like an excellent and most commendable line-up was shattered in mere moments as a blue Chaser got in the way (they were exceptionally good at that, Linus noted with irritation) and stole back the Quaffle once more for his team.

So it was on again: the wild goose chase that was the Crotalus Chasers’ pursuit of the Quaffle. Linus turned his broom once more with difficulty, discovering that wider loops were more effective and less likely to make the broomstick creak in an ominous fashion than tighter turns. He was also more attuned, thanks to his recent experiences, of the presence of other flying objects on the pitch, not least Bludgers, but also his fellow Chasers, on this new expedition towards Nic’s hoops. In addition his progress was potentially minimally hindered by his broomstick (now emitting fizzing noises, barely perceptible over the rushing wind). Regardless, Linus followed the Quaffle right down the pitch as it made its progress in the hands of the other blue Chaser – next year Linus might make the effort to learn their names, if only to differentiate them in his head, and prevent the confusion of calling the two opposing male Chasers by the same impersonal noun – who then attempted to score.

Once again there were two potential scenarios: the least preferable was that Aladren scored again, creating an embarrassing twenty-point lead. Then, presumably the Crotalus Keeper would recover the ball and make renewed efforts at delivering it to his Chasers, who, in turn, would redouble their own efforts at making sure the Quaffle didn’t return to that end of the pitch yet again. The other outcome, naturally the one towards which Linus was leaning, was that Nic managed another save, and tossed the Quaffle back out into play. Either way, the Crotalus Chasers needed to be ready and unobstructed to receive a pass. Linus pulled his broomstick to a halt in anticipation; or, at least, that was his aim. The Bludger-battered equipment seemed to have other ideas, however (providing inanimate objects could have ideas… Linus wasn’t entirely sure how these things worked within the wizarding world. If a broomstick could respond to commands, he wasn’t ruling out the possibility of original and abstract thought). It slowed a little, but not to a full stop, and began to shudder a little more violently than the steady oscillations of its prior post-collision malfunctions. Linus would liken the sensation to cornering a go-kart with a shoddy breaking system as he turned his broom to the side instead, drifting unintentionally but helplessly towards the goalposts himself. Not so close that he ran the risk of coming between the Keeper and his view of the incoming Quaffle, which was probably beneficial to Crotalus, which might be the only redeemable feature of the scenario. Though in fact, Linus might even be well-placed to receive a pass from Nic once he saved the shot. Whether he could then control his broomstick suitably to do anything useful with the Quaffle once it was in his possession was another matter entirely.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Must we? 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Nic Sawyer, Keeper
December 24, 2011 10:18 AM

Nic Sawyer, Keeper
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 15

Perhaps in the other direction this time? by Nic Sawyer, Keeper
Renee and Linus made it a good distance across the Pitch for him. Well, no doubt they were attempting to even the score, no just accommodate Nic's craving for a short break and breather, but it worked out that way well enough. It was hard to tell from this distance, but there may have even been a shot at goals. Judging by the Crotalus groaning in the stands, though, it hadn't made it in.

Unfortunately, the attempt had seemingly put the ball into Aladren possession and they started coming back. There were a few hiccups where it back-tracked a little, but overall there was a definite trend toward his side of the pitch. Worse, the trek resulted in two of his teammates having too-close encounters with bludgers. If any of the Aladren Chasers had taken damage yet, he hadn't seen it happen and none of them looked especially hurt as the Carey Chaser intercepted from the injured Renee and the Layne Chaser recovered the falling ball after Sam only partially intercepted back.

Then the Layne Chaser was coming for Nic. And so, apparently, was Linus on his injured broom. Ignoring Linus, Nic moved for the right, realized Layne wasn't going that way after all, and changed directions as the ball flew through the air. Layne kept on coming for the side hope, but Nic's eyes were all on the Quaffle as it flew for the middle hoop. It had taken a while to train himself to watch the Quaffle and only the Quaffle, but three years of facing Daniel Nash and his tendency to bluff about having the ball had taught Nic to keep track of its actual location.

In this particular case, its actual location was hurtling toward the center goal. Nic had pulled a solid 180, using a move far more commonly found on a half-pipe than a Quidditch Pitch but it worked well enough to convert his speed in one direction for nearly equal speed in the opposite direction, and he managed to get in front of the ball for his first solid catch of the game. Center hoop shots were always tricky for the Chasers since that's where the Keeper tended to hang out, and Nic hadn't gone far enough to the side for that distance to be unrecoverable.

Secure in the knowledge that a seventy-five percent save rate was pretty darn amazing, and three saves was more than he'd made in the rest of his Keeping career combined, Nic felt he was definitely holding up his end of the team this game. He might even write to Charlie to brag, if he could figure out her new address. But that was for later. Now was for getting the Quaffle safely into the hands of another red robe so it could try to make it over to Wilkes again. He looked for a clear shot to a Crotalus chaser and got rid of the ball for the fourth time this game.

"Get off my property and don't come back, ya'hear!" he shouted after the ball, shaking his fist a little. He was in an amazingly good mood after his own good performance, and it struck him as funny to mimic one of the old men in his neighborhood who didn't care for teenagers skateboarding on his driveway.

1 Nic Sawyer, Keeper Perhaps in the other direction this time? 165 Nic Sawyer, Keeper 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce
December 24, 2011 10:42 AM

Coach Amelia Pierce
Former Staff
Subject: Quidditch Coach
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 38

Recenter # 2 by Coach Amelia Pierce
We start off on a beautiful sunny day with the sun blindingly bright in the East. It's a little cool, but not freezing cold. Captains speak and shake hands and the game is on:

-Renee gets the ball off the whistle, heads for David, and passes
-Kitty intercepts, dodges bludgers, heads back toward Nic, and passes to Russell
-Russell catches and passes back to Kitty
-Gareth shoots another bludger
-Edmond intercepts and hits at Sam
-Sam dodges and misses his chance to intercept
-Kitty catches and passes back to Arthur
-Arthur gets within scoring distance and passes to Russell
-Russell tries to score
-Preston tries to hit a Crotalus Chaser
-Topher stops him
-Nic saves! He tries to pass to Sam
-Kitty intercepts and tries to score again
-Sam is mad
-Aladren 10 - Crotalus 0!
-Nic passes to Sam
-Sam passes to Linus
-Linus attempts to pass, but Russell gets in the way and takes it back the other way
-Russell passes to Arthur despite Renee's attempt to intercept
-Arthur attempts to score
-Nic stops it and passes to Renee
-Renee passes to Linus
-Linus passes back to Renee
-Renee attempts to score
-Kitty gets confused and stops it with her head
-David is also confused
-Russell recovers the ball and brings it away from the danger zone and passes
-Renee intercepts and passes
-Arthur intercepts Renee's pass and tries to pass
-Edmond momentarily leaves the Seeker game to throw a bludger into the mix
-It hits Linus's broom, causing pretty bad damage, but it remains flyable so Coach doesn't interfere
-Arthur's pass had hit Linus as he spun out of control, but Kitty recovers it, passes to Arthur
-Arthur passes back to Kitty
-Kitty fakes an attempt to score but passes
-Renee intercepts but gets hit in the thigh by a bludger from Preston, she holds onto the ball though and tries to drop pass to Sam
-Arthur intercepts and passes
-Sam tries to intercept with limited success, managing only to knock it out of play
-Russell recovers the ball and brings it into the danger zone, attempting to score
-Linus has some trouble with his broom but tries to get in position for a clear pass from Nic
-Nic catches it and throws it toward a Crotalus Chaser

Meanwhile the Seekers are having an interesting time of it, too.
-Marissa tries to enjoy herself
-Arnold cuts her off
-Marissa tries a Wronski Feint
-Gareth takes the opportunity to hit a bludger at Arnold
-Arnold tries to shake it but takes a solid hit to his leg
-Gareth tries to repeat the maneuver
-Edmond is having none of that and redirects to Marissa
-Marissa takes a glancing blow to her shoulder which hurts but not as much as Arnold's leg
-Arnold tries to shake off the pain and get back into the game
-Edmond assists by hitting another bludger at Marissa
-Marissa evades and thinks she sees something shiny. She goes for it.
-Arnold follows, keeping close
-Gareth stalks after them, not having a clear shot at Arnold, but eager to take one when he does

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Recenter # 2 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 24, 2011 2:46 PM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

So, who thinks we'll make it to Recenter #3? by Sam Bauer, Chaser
Linus was back. Well, that was good. Sam had been a little worried for a minute, not completely sure if, at some point in the next ten minutes, he was going to cease to live.

It had been nice when that fear was solely concerned with what the Aladrens might do to him, but after his spectacular failure of an attempt to intercept the Aladren rush back to the goals, he was a little worried about his own alleged semi-followers ganging up to end him, too. Or his former boss; Charlie had been an enthusiast for Crotalus Quidditch, and while they might speak of Those Who Had Graduated as though they were, the fact remained that she was not, as far as he knew, actually dead and so was theoretically capable of coming back for his blood.

But then, from the way Nic was yelling as Sam grabbed the Quaffle one more time and fled the scene, the current players were enough of a danger. So he was back to where he started, hoping the triumph of Nic’s save would overshadow the error of his fumble so that no one came after him and killed him once the game was over and the Aladrens lost interest until the next time.

He flew fast, bent over his broom and the Quaffle in an attempt to both make it less accessible if the Aladrens were feeling really confident today and make himself a smaller target for Edmond and Preson. Merlin, he’d never thought he’d see the day where he didn’t mind being kinda short, but if there was one, this would be it. The less of a target he was, the better chance he had of making it out intact, which sounded like a wonderful proposition to him. He really liked that idea and wanted to see it carried through and put into practice, not let to wither and fall on the drawing board.

His metaphors seemed mixed there. Were his metaphors mixed there? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter, anyway, point came out the same.

Finally, fearing for his life every moment, he saw an opening to pass and he took it with great pleasure, crossing his fingers as it left them that it would complete and the Quaffle would, therefore, get off and stay off of Nic’s property, as requested.

The essential distinction, he thought, between the stereotypical Crotalus male and the stereotypical Crotalus female was that it was only the latter which enjoyed dorm conflict, and since Sam was pretty sure he and Nic were members of the first category instead, the best policy was one of being as obliging as was reasonably possible, so that everybody went home happy in December, and June, and next December, and next June, and so on and so forth until they no longer had to live together. Getting the Quaffle away was, Sam thought, a pretty reasonable request, though keeping it away was bound to be much harder. The game was just going that way.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser So, who thinks we'll make it to Recenter #3? 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
December 26, 2011 9:39 PM

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 17

Let's finish this. by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
The gleam of gold vanished, and Marissa searched frantically for it again, looking over the whole area where it had been. The Snitch could move fast, but it couldn’t just disappear; there were, she was pretty sure, rules against that, and if one of the spectators had charmed it to make it vanish, then that was dirty, rotten cheating and she had no patience for it. Nor, she suspected, would Coach Pierce.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement, a small form in blue. It seemed Arnold had recovered enough to begin dogging her steps again, no doubt drawing the Beaters after him. Almost certainly drawing Edmond after him; the two of them might as well have been the twins on this Pitch, now that the Bludgers were in play in earnest and both of them were hurt and, by the looks of it, it was starting to affect the Chasers, too. She ignored him for the moment, though, and kept looking for that flash of gold. A caught Snitch would make Edmond and Arnold both irrelevant; it would end the game, put it into Crotalus’ hands for the first time against this team in years and all but guarantee them the Championship. It was all that really mattered; she’d walk through fire to get her hands on it today.

Just as she was beginning to despair of finding the gold again, though, the prickling feeling between her shoulders growing stronger at the thought of the Beaters having her in a narrow space for so long and no doubt aiming right for her head, it reappeared. Her heart jumped into her throat, cutting short any exasperated comments she might have wanted to make when she realized it wasn’t, and never had been, the Snitch, and that flying just a little closer revealed it to be the reflection off of a watch. She did hit her leg, though, not hard, with her closed hand in frustration. Really? Why couldn’t there be a rule that said wearing shiny things to the Pitch was an unnecessary distraction to the Seekers and thus wasn’t permitted? She thought she’d read of some kind of rule like that in chess….

Oh, well. That attempt was a bust. Now for trying to get Arnold hit by a Bludger instead of her. She went up suddenly, hoping to move so quickly that he wouldn’t think to react until it was too late, others had made their play, and he didn’t even know what (actually Gareth, or, more precisely, a Bludger hit by Gareth) had hit him. Hopefully, this would also be so quickly that Edmond, or Preston if they’d switched areas of play, didn’t have time to react and get a Bludger and take advantage of her suddenly not being near his Seeker any more than Gareth’s Seeker would be near Arnold. That was the problem with Quidditch maneuvers; as often as not, they could be turned back on the one who originated them.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker Let's finish this. 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Preston S., Beater
December 26, 2011 10:22 PM

Preston S., Beater
Peripheral
Written by:

There is a pretty good probability by Preston S., Beater
Edmond was looking after the Seekers, always a pretty good tactic. His captain was stronger and meaner and had better aim. He was the perfect bodyguard for Arnold; there was no question about it. That was why Preston never intervened on that particular chase. His mission was to protect the rest of the team. They couldn’t lose this game, they just couldn’t. If they did they would then compete for third or fourth place. He shuddered at the thought. He had to admit that Crotalus had a good team, which was why Crotalus and Aladren were always so fiercely competitive when it came to the field. Preston had always been competitive, especially in the academic field, but this new-found competitiveness on the pitch was new. He liked it. Being on top of the game gave him a lot of satisfaction. That feeling was what had kept him on playing and the idea of a brighter and more complete curriculum.

Aladren was winning by 10 points, which was always a good thing, but he couldn’t start thinking about their victory until Arnold caught the snitch. That little sneaky ball was the one that dictated which would go on onto the next round of games. He sighed in exasperation. He wanted Arnold to catch it as soon as possible. Each minute that the snitch was out there, it gave Crotalus a bigger probability of winning. Something nobody wanted. It would be beyond humiliating to lose and stay in the bottom. The redhead didn’t do well with failure.

Preston was flying around the pitch looking for a bludger to send to his opponents. Thankfully, the bludgers were awesome enough to come his way every time he was looking for them. He looked around him to see which Crotalus player was near him and found the shorter Crotalus Chaser not too far away. The Aladren swung his bat and it collided against the ball sending it directly towards him.

0 Preston S., Beater There is a pretty good probability 0 Preston S., Beater 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
December 27, 2011 7:41 AM

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Who thinks Crotalus will score a goal? by Linus Macaulay, Chaser
Nic saved again! Simultaneously renewing Linus’ faith in him yet again, and causing the second year to wonder how his older teammate had gotten such a bad reputation in the first place. Based on this game alone, Nic was actually looking like a pretty good Keeper, and a valuable member of the Crotalus team. Regardless of his own success, with each goal he saved, the Crotalus Keeper seemed increasingly more eager to keep the Quaffle away from that end of the pitch. It might have something to do with the law of averages, in that the more attempts were made on his goals, the more Nic was likely to let in, but as Linus didn’t know the fifth year well enough to be sure, he didn’t waste any time contemplating the matter, and instead resolved to do what Nic suggested without question or quarrel.

As he’d suspected, the pass from Nic had been made to a somewhat more reliable Chaser, but seeing as the Quaffle was currently in Crotalus possession then Linus wasn’t going to argue. Instead he continued the circle his unintentional drift had set him upon, and was soon facing the right direction to follow Sam up the pitch, weaving in and out of Aladren players as they loomed in his immediate vision. The broom was still doing as it was told, albeit with more song and dance than he’d come to expect fo a broomstick. The shaking and fizzing noises were the cause of some minor anxiety, but unless there was another horrendous creak – the forewarning to the broom actually parting with itself (and probably its rider) – he resolved to remain airborne. Linus had seen other players fall off their brooms before, anyway, and nobody had ever received any serious injury as a result. That was, he supposed, yet another one of the many benefits of being a wizard: the Healing process was apparently much faster, and the pain reduction methods were almost certainly more effective, too. Hence his fear of injury was reduced, possibly by a greater amount than was realistically safe in a Quidditch game (but as far as the second year understood it, this was actually a positive characteristic for a Chaser), and hence as he lay flatter on his broom to encourage the vibrating equipment to match Sam’s speed, Linus was unburdened by fear.

Furthermore, he had the benefit of experience, and the continual reminder of this with his humming vessel, so when another Bludger came soaring his way, Linus was ready for it. He rolled out of its path, threatening the security of his breakfast for what had to be at least the third time that game, but ultimately avoiding sustaining further damage to his broom or person, at least for the time being. The manoeuvre even offered further assistance in putting Linus in a helpful position adjacent to Sam, which, for the moment at least, was unencumbered by the presence of Aladren players. Linus thought it was a good opportunity to make a pass, and so he readied himself to receive the ball as Sam came to the same decision. It wasn’t a fancy throw, but the second year was coming to understand that sometimes the more simple throws were the more elegant, and often the more successful. In this case, he was pleased for it, because it meant he could catch the ball without having to throw himself around to horribly, and he tucked it under his arm as he swerved away from Sam for the time being, keen to avoid any Bludgers that might already be on their way to the player who’d been holding the ball.

Nic’s instruction had been to get the ball away from that end of the pitch, and that’s what Linus intended on doing. Sam had already made them excellent headway, enjoying the cover of the opposition whiel they moved away from the goal posts. All Linus could see ahead of him was open playing space. Admittedly, this would make oncoming Bludgers easier to see, but he would presumably also be a more identifiable target to the opposing Beaters. Quidditch was a balanced game in that way: there always seemed to be both a downside and an upside to everything… aside from losing, of course, so that simply wasn’t an option. With this in mind, Linus pushed onwards, willing his broom to continue behaving and the Aladrens (who all seemed to possess spectacular broomsticks) to tire and cease to be so effective in stealing the Quaffle.

Once he’d covered a respectable distance, Linus began to see other players closing in on his peripheral vision. This, he supposed, was only to be expected considering the higher quality of the majority of brooms on the pitch – even his fasted flying on a damaged school broom wasn’t going to outstrip the other players – and the fact that he had the much-coveted Quaffle safely stowed away between his elbow and ribcage. It wouldn’t stay there for longer, however; the more players surrounded him, the easier it would be for the other team to intercept, as a percentage of them were bound to be the opposition. So, naturally, Linus did his best to look for a suitable opening ro make a pass before it was too late. Identifying a teammate in an optimum position, Linus moved in a little closer, perhaps indicating his intentions, but also giving less room for error, before recalling the Quaffle to his palm and making another short, direct pass; Strong, simple, and elegant. If this pass was successful, the Crotalus team would be making excellent headway, and might even be in a position to make their second attempt at scoring a goal. The Aladren Keeper hadn’t had much to do this game, considering Crotalus’ initial effort had been blocked by Katrina’s head, so perhaps he would be glad of the onslaught (and maybe even sufficiently ill-prepared that he let the ball sail right on through, although considering he was the assistant captain, that particular scenario was perhaps unlikely).

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Who thinks Crotalus will score a goal? 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 27, 2011 3:25 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

I don't. by Arthur Carey, Chaser
It was perhaps uncharitable of him, but after the way Crotalus had covered the Pitch very quickly to threaten the goals the last time they’d gotten their hands on the ball for more than one pass, Arthur was not inclined to let the Quaffle pass from Mr. Bauer’s hands to the hands of either Mr. Macaulay or Miss Errant. As soon as the Quaffle was back in play, he was after it, looking for the first opportunity to steal it back for yet another attempt at the Crotalus goals. What had Mr. Sawyer been doing over the summer, anyway, joining a camp? Arthur had heard of such things, though he’d never had an interest in attending one and he thought Arnold knew better than to ask. Some groups in the family still weren’t completely certain about how wise it was to let children go to school, which was a much more secure environment and where there were several of them to watch each other’s backs.

Not, he thought, usually so literally as Edmond did, though. That was one of the several things about Quidditch which amused him tremendously, how things that should have been abstract became suddenly almost real.

Getting hit by a Bludger himself, though, did not amuse him, not even a little. So when he saw that Preston was very likely about to take a shot at the Crotalus Chasers, he backed off, content to let them get injured again. That, too, would help the cause, especially if he managed to hit Mr. Bauer, the last one of the three who was still in about the same condition he’d been in when this all began.

It didn’t go quite as planned, though, and Mr. Macaulay ended up with the pass in hand. Well, it wasn’t much of a setback. Next time, he’d get it out; he didn’t expect Mr. Macaulay to carry it very far, since Edmond had so helpfully damaged the second year’s broom the last time Crotalus had been in a position of relative strength.

Soon enough, he was proven right. Mr. Macaulay was not a bad Chaser, as far as it went, he did that quite nicely and it was close enough to be risky for Arthur to go in there to get it, but that didn’t bother him much. Colliding with other people seldom hurt as much as colliding with Bludgers, and considering that the Crotalus Chasers were in much worse shape than he was, well, he could afford that more easily than they could if it did happen. Just because he was not a masochist like his brother did not mean he was unwilling, if necessary, to take a bit of damage for the team. Just only if it was absolutely necessary.

This time, it was not. It was a close thing, but he came out with the Quaffle in his hand and a smile, however briefly, on his face. Then there wasn’t time for that, so the expression fell away and he was on his way back down the Pitch, searching for an opening of his own to pass in. They had covered a good amount of ground, the Crotali; in some moments, not all, but some, he couldn’t help but admire them a little for still trying. He wasn’t sure if he would have been as single-minded when he knew that ultimately, he was almost sure to fail. He had been taught when he was small that there were some things important enough to fight for even if you were sure to lose, but he still didn’t know what they were.

Seeing an opening, he took it, quickly, in the form of a short, direct pass. He had discovered that his ability to expand on situations in complex terms didn’t extend very well to the physical arena of Quidditch, but also that this was all right. Part of the pleasure of the game, after all, was not thinking anymore, just for a little while, and sometimes, simple, direct moves could work. At any rate, they were harder to have turned back on him so he ended up injured or worse, looking like a fool. He liked to leave that to others.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser I don't. 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
December 27, 2011 3:54 PM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

I like that idea. by Arnold Carey, Seeker
If it had been Kate Bauer or Amira Thornton over there on the other side of the game, Arnold might have kept up a steady stream of chatter whenever the other Seeker was in range, not even thinking too much about it because the point was to distract her, not himself. It would have been more likely, too, if he wasn’t injured. But it was Marissa Stephenson there, she who seemed strangely impervious to being goaded and annoyed into making a mistake, and he was hurt, so this time, he kept his mouth shut and put his mind entirely on making sure she didn’t make a move for the Snitch while he wasn’t ready to counter it, or outdo it, or whatever seemed necessary in that moment.

That was what he liked about Quidditch, he thought. There were whole books, as he knew through exposure to his brother, devoted to strategy and practices and what would work best and how to win, but really, it came down to the moment. What happened in a moment was what decided a play, what decided the whole game. React right – good for your team. React the wrong way – so much for that plan, that play, maybe that game. He thought better on his feet than anything.

He also had an odd feeling he had thought this before, recently, though he wasn’t sure. Either way, though, it was time to end this now. He didn’t mind getting hurt, really, but it did make things harder, and unless Marissa got hurt worse than him really soon, it was better to just end it as quickly as possible once he was. It never occurred to him that he might not be the one to end it at all, not now, when he was thinking completely along straight lines and in fairly simple terms.

When Marissa suddenly pulled away, he blinked, started to go after her, and then became aware of a form which didn’t belong to either of them. Beater. Trouble. He went the other way, and fast, because he was pretty sure, though he’d only glanced at it for a split second, that it was Edmond and he should therefore make himself scarce because whoever got in the way of his cousin was likely to shortly be in a great deal of pain. If he was wrong…well, that was when things would be interesting again.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker I like that idea. 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 27, 2011 4:51 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

I do. by Renée Errant {Chaser}
Again, the Quaffle was stolen, the insistent tug of war between Aladren and Crotalus, the blue robed chasers bringing the Quaffle to Crotalus hoops, aiming and shooting, Renée already giving a disappointed sigh. The breath hitched in her throat in surprise, watching, blinking, as Nic again made the save. ‘Why is he the best Crotalus on the field right now?’ It was bizarre but it offered a pleasant security to the game that Crotalus hadn’t had in awhile, at least not since Renée had been on the team. Gripping her broom, she turned around and shot off, keeping pace with Sam and Linus, swerving around players, waiting for a pass. The familiar CRACK striking the air warned her of a bludger, and she made a sharp turn in the air, the rest of the chasers streaking past, the bludger barrelling a breath away from her, seeking another target. Her thigh, which she guessed had already begun to bruise, began to pound, like a heavy weight was being dropped on it over and over again. As much as she hated feeling pain, she felt proud whenever she got hurt and pushed through it. She’d grown up with stories of her father’s people, always in pain, always pushing through.

‘Ah, hell.’ Linus had passed to Sam but Carey suddenly popped in between then, stealing the ball away. Renée leaned forward on her broom, shooting toward him but quickly raising herself in the air and made another sharp turn above his form, following just above him toward her own goals. ‘Come on, pass.’ She watched his body, his arms that rose, his hand that palmed the Quaffle. She wondered, suddenly, how much better or worse a chaser he was than her. It was one thing to face off with him, three against three. But how would they compare one against the other? She considered him better than his fellow Aladren Chasers, even if this time he wasn’t the one to score. She thought Sam a shade better than her in some respects; he got hurt less, he had more patience with the game than she had, he took less risks. These were things she sometimes wondered at working at, but it would be against her nature, and she disliked going against herself. ‘Sam’s mind probably doesn’t wander as much, either.’ Renée blinked, and Arthur Carey (she liked thinking of him as just “Carey”, dubbing her opponents by their last name just... just because) made a pass.

‘Yes!’ She pushed down on her Febre, the broom tilting before plunging into a quick dive. She shot down, passing the Quaffle without touching it but gave it a quick backhand slap, her left arm jerking into the sudden motion. Quickly she turned her broom around, stilling for a moment, reaching out with both hands to catch the Quaffle after its interrupted trajectory. Her hands clamped down on either side of the leather ball, she leaned down on the same second and shot off again, curving with the oval shape of the pitch, regaining the ground Sam and Linus had both earned. Charlie would be missed, but she thought Linus was a fair enough substitute. Penguins substituting for eagles.

‘Oh!’ Renée blinked, momentarily distracted, speed slowing down as a flash of gold darted across her vision. Her head turned, curls tickling her neck, trying to catch a lingering spark of gold. ‘Not your problem.’ Without a way to signal Marissa without signalling the Aladren seeker as well, Renée tightened her body’s grip around the broom and resumed her former speed, eyes darting from Crotalus chaser to Crotalus chaser, trying to judge who was in best position to receive her pass. Linus’ broom had been hit before, but he was proving capable without it. ‘There!’ Glimmer of free space and Renée darted for it, raising her arm and pushing through resistant wind and heat, a sloping arch with a tentative spin on the ball toward her teammate, hopefully shying away from an intercepting Aladren. She swerved toward the closest Aladren toward her, dipping beneath him, intending to play tag for the few seconds of waiting for her pass to be completed.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} I do. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Edmond Carey, Beater
December 27, 2011 5:00 PM

Edmond Carey, Beater
Peripheral
Written by:

I suspect she won't like this one. by Edmond Carey, Beater
Edmond bit his lip in place of making any comment on his own possible stupidity in leaving the main drama for a moment when looking up where he had been showed him the sight of some empty air. Arnold was not there, neither was Marissa, and neither, perhaps most importantly, was the Crotalus Beater who’d been doing his best to defeat Aladren’s interests the whole game.

The thing about Quidditch, though, was that it was a game in which thinking was not necessarily the brightest and best option. Reacting was. So he looked again, found where they had all gotten off to, and determined that no one had the Snitch as he moved, aware that Arnold and Marissa most likely wouldn’t stick together forever there and needing to be in place to turn it to Aladren’s advantage instead of Crotalus’ when they finally did break apart.

He was right. Marissa, apparently finding that there was nothing where they were for her to catch, broke first, flying away from Arnold, no doubt in the hopes that her Beater would get in a shot at Arnold in her absence. Edmond, however, was not particularly afraid to slightly step on the toes of another Beater – the past few years had gotten him very used to them being enough smaller than him that he didn’t really need to worry about them too much; the situation wasn’t quite what it had been when he had been a fifth year and almost every other Beater in the school had been a first year, but with this one, it was actually very possibly worse for the other guy, since he was a first year when Edmond was a seventh year – and he did know that preventing injury to his cousin was his main reason for being out here, so he swept in just in time and hit a Bludger very hard toward Marissa.

A little dramatic, that moment, he’d admit. But sometimes, maybe just sometimes, there was nothing wrong with being a little dramatic, or at least nothing so wrong that it mattered much. Especially not if it worked. He had not been brought up alongside his biological sisters, seeing the dramatic gesture as just as much a part of life as breakfast, but he had been taught for as long as he could remember to do what worked, within the bounds of reason and his conscience.

0 Edmond Carey, Beater I suspect she won't like this one. 0 Edmond Carey, Beater 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 
December 27, 2011 8:51 PM

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 
Peripheral
Written by:

Good thing I have her back by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 
When he saw his Captain break away Gareth started to target the Aladren Seeker but the sight of the large blue beater made him curse softly under his breath. The window had closed and while the blue Seeker was now open, that also left his own Seeker equally open. Something the Aladren beater clearly had no problem focusing his attention on. It would have been better, if he’d had time to take a shot at the blue Seeker to distract, but unfortunately the bludger was nearer to the other beater and with a resounding CRACK it was flung with painful intensity towards his own Seeker. That’s…not good.

Intercepting that hit was going to hurt but not intercepting it was entirely unacceptable. A single deep settling breath and Gareth was off like an arrow shot from a bow. He knew that if the bludger hit his Captain at such a speed it would be quite serious and most likely would result in her removal from the game. Another breath, in, out as his blue eyes narrowed on the streaking black ball who’s path was coming ever closer to his own. Moments like this made Gareth curse who ever thought it was a brilliant idea that first years and seventh years should be playing in the same arena.

Five…four…three…two…one. Gareth arrived moments before the dark ball could strike, just barely getting the bat up in time to deflect the ball with a loud CRACK. A soft gasp of pain escaped him as the brutal hit reverberated up the bat with such force that it half spun him on the broom. It took everything he had just to alter the balls path enough that it didn’t strike his Seeker, but the harsh throb in his wrist told him the hit had been dearly paid for. He hadn’t had enough time to brace himself for the blow and slowly he shifted the bat to his other hand, another hiss of pain was torn from his lips as he loosely gripped his broom with his now injured hand. This…was not ideal, but he would continue on, determined to see the game though.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater Good thing I have her back 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Cepheus Princeton,Reserve
December 27, 2011 11:15 PM

Cepheus Princeton,Reserve
Peripheral
Written by:

At least our teammates will hear one of us. by Cepheus Princeton,Reserve
Cepheus was a little surprised at his companion's decision to strike up a conversation, though it shouldn't have. This was how one made friends, obviously. Cepheus felt like a dunderhead for a moment, but the feeling passed swiftly. He knew his fellow reserve by name and face only. He didn't remember what position Bennett had tried out for, but it was obvious that neither he nor Bennett had succeeded to get a solid position on the team. Either way, he was glad he wasn't the only one not up in the air.

"Right," he replied to Bennett's remark on the weather. He never was much of a conversationalist when it came to the weather, unless there was something wrong with it. Cepheus felt a little proud when he commented on his roommate's accomplishment. He felt slightly guilty again at giving Gareth the cold shoulder for a bit, but brushed it off. Now wasn't the time to deal with guilt. In Quidditch, it was all war against the other team.

"Good thing he's up there playing instead of me," he said, getting more into the game. His eyes weren't necessarily following the Chasers as much as they should have been, but were instead intent on following Marissa. The Carey bloke didn't seem to be letting up on her, and he gripped the bench and clenched his white teeth when he saw Carey hit the bludger straight at the Crotalus captain. He could almost feel himself wanting to burst with a shout at her to get out of the way, but she wouldn't hear him and he'd only be making a fool out of himself.

"Oh, God," he choked out. And then Gareth came to save the day again. "Good Merlin!" His roommate had proved to be very useful in this game so far. He could almost feel the hit in his own arm, and winced when he imagined the impact the bludger must have had on his arm. He hoped it wasn't broken. "It'd be awful to have a broken bone in this match," he said to Bennett. "Then one of us would have to get up there." He smirked, to let his companion know he was teasing.

Cepheus's blue eyes flicked over to the score. Aladren still had 10 points and they had none. He watched the Chasers for a moment, hoping for a Crotalus goal, but couldn't pay much attention to them. He never was much of a Chaser. Or a beater, for that matter. Cepheus looked back at Marissa and the beaters there, slightly worried. "Reckon it's too early to be worried, but I can't help myself," he sighed. "I guess we can only pray Crotalus doesn't lose this one." He knew how important this match was for their team, and he hoped dearly that his teammates wouldn't mess it up.

0 Cepheus Princeton,Reserve At least our teammates will hear one of us. 0 Cepheus Princeton,Reserve 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser
December 27, 2011 11:59 PM

Russell Layne, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 13

I'm betting against you, too. by Russell Layne, Chaser
Russell had almost had it. He’d come so close, in fact, to having it that his fingers had brushed the Quaffle as Errant swept down after it after she knocked it off-course, and he’d nearly come a little unbalanced leaning forward to try to get it back, try to get it away from her, or at least pull her down with him. At some point in the past few moments, his grasp on reasonable behavior had slipped away, and the only thing that sounded better than Arnold catching the Snitch or Aladren making another goal was her falling.

He tried to remind himself it was a game, and stuff like that was going to happen. And he was even able to remind himself. But the primary thing in his mind was to get that Quaffle back, even if it meant getting hurt himself to do it, and then laugh at her frustration at being gotten right back, again.

It was strange, feeling like this. Like he could, and would, do anything. Like their victory was sure, and there was no need to be careful, to hedge his bets, to really think at all. Strange, and later, when he was thinking, it would also be a little unnerving, just because of the sheer unfamiliarity of it. It was a world away from how he was in his everyday life, or at least he thought and devoutly hoped it was. He didn’t, when he thought about it at other times, and had thought of it earlier in this game, like to think that he was capable of losing himself this way even in the heat of the game.

Right now, though, his mind was all on the Quaffle, which was moving away from him fast, regaining all the ground Arthur had managed to steal back from them. He couldn’t have that; his roommate had worked hard for that ground, gained it at risk of personal injury every moment of the time, and some smug Crotalus on an old broom didn’t get to undo that. When she passed, Russell took a chance and came out with the Quaffle even more narrowly than she had from the last pass, but with it in his hands.

He wanted to call something out, to gloat, but was a little out of breath and it felt like his heart was in his throat, anyway, so he just flew, gaining ground back. Back, back on toward Nic Sawyer, a little past where Arthur had been, before he chanced a pass himself. He guessed that little extra space would be enough to sort of gloat, as well as get them closer than where they had been. Anyway, it felt pretty good to him, especially since he’d stayed clear of the Bludgers all the way through. That was doing pretty good, since the new Crotalus guy had needed to duck one before.

It would be great if Aladren’s Chasers could make it without getting hurt at all, in contrast to the other team. That was what he was hoping for, anyway. If they pulled that off, and Arnold caught the Snitch without getting hurt any further, this would be as good of a game as they’d ever had. It would have been better if they had come out of the game completely unscathed, but hey, this would do. It would do really well, honestly; better than he thought he might have really expected, given how much they all wanted to be in the Finals for the umpteenth year in a row. He’d take it, no problem, if they did that.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser I'm betting against you, too. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
December 28, 2011 1:41 PM

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

I'm not placing my bet yet. by Linus Macaulay, Chaser
The longer the game went on, the more desperate its players became, apparently. Linus was sure he had detected this trend within his own behaviour, and it was blatantly evident in the other Chasers, as they embarked on increasingly daring interventions. It didn’t matter in terms of the progress of the game, however, as each team seemed to be suffering equally from this madness: Blue Chaser One stole Linus’ pass, and then his own pass was caught by Renee, whose next attempt was intercepted by Blue Chaser Two. Having turned in anticipation once his initial pass had turned foul, Linus had managed to follow Blue Chaser Two over the extra distance he recovered, and engaged in a crazy intervention himself. It was more luck than judgement on his part, really – he’d been flying towards the Chaser with the Quaffle, and as he’d been getting closer, he’d thought about braking on his broomstick, but it wasn’t co-operating quite as planned, meaning that the second year had continue on in a diagonal past the Aladren player. He managed to collect the Quaffle on the way past, and turn his broomstick back the other way, all at a pace much greater than that with which he was truly comfortable.

So it continued – Linus worked to take the Quaffle back up to the point, more or less, from which he’d released it after Nic’s most recent save. The ball had been back and forth over this stretch an unbelievable number of times in the past minute, neither team making any real progress. Yet despite this, Linus didn’t feel at all discouraged. His thoughts the last time the Quaffle had been in his possession were centered around Crotalus success, and the possibility that they might be able to make another attempt at the goal, if only he could keep the ball in Crotalus hands. He couldn’t deny that it was frustrating that no matter how hard hjis team tried, no matter how much ground they covered, no matter how many balls they intercepted, that Aladren seemed to end up with the Quaffle again, anyway. They had a reputation for being a little left of sane, but this evidently worked to their favour. On the Crotalus team, Renee was reputed to be the one of them with most screws loose, and she seemed to be a perfectly adept player herself. This could only lead to a logical conclusion that being crazy made one a better Quidditch player, which wasn’t an entirely new concept, but it wasn’t one that Linus wanted to consider midgame; that equalizing goal was teasing them, elusively out of reach, getting no nearer with time and effort.

Well, maybe that was about to change. Clinging to the belief that the Beaters would be too distracted by the constant yo-yo tribute to be in a position to make a potentially threatening shot at him, Linus flew for a greater stretch than he otherwise would have done. In fact, it was probably the longest he’d ever hold onto the Quaffle, even during practises. It just made good sense to pass the ball often, to avoid being too obvious a Bludger target. On the other hand, in situations such as this, where every pass of the ball resulted in its being transferred to the other team, then perhaps hanging onto it for a longer while was prudent.

There did reach a stage, however, when even Linus’ determined attitude was overrun by his fickle gut. He needed to pass the ball, before he was hit by a Bludger, or his broomstick exploded, or something equally undesirable. His pass success rate, however, was much worse than Nic’s Keeping record, for this game, at least. So it wasn’t with much conviction that he sought out a suitable time and place to pass, but his existing self-belief was sufficiently strong that he didn’t doubt his own abilities… he simply wasn’t keen to underestimate Aladren. The second year knew he was good at passing – that was probably the only reason he got onto the team in the first place, considering his flying was still in obvious need of improvement – it was just hard to manage a direct shot from a broomstick to a broomstick without the other team getting in the way. As undesirable as the situation might be, Linus truly couldn’t hold onto the ball any longer. He raised it up, and employing all the strength and aim he could muster (which might have been less, following the game’s exertion, if it hadn’t been balanced out by the increasing level of determination, and correspondingly greater risk taking born of desperation), passed the ball.

Perhaps this time it would fall into Crotalus hands. Perhaps this time it would be transported to the goalposts, and perhaps it would go in, and they would score that extra point. He knew, on some level, that it probably didn’t matter how many points they scored, because unless either team reached a lead greater than one hundred and fifty points (which seemed unlikely in an intra-school match such as this) then the winning Seeker would determine the outcome of the game, anyway. Linus had faith in his team’s captain – even though she was a girl, she wouldn’t have been awarded the position if she was in any way incompetent – but he couldn’t deny that the fact she’d been beaten twice in the past two years by Aladren’s counterpart player made him a little edgy. If all this work he and the other Chasers had put in was for nothing, then, well, that would be difficult to take gracefully. There was nothing Linus could do about it either way, of course, so he simply had to channel all his efforts into making their points total as high as possible. Maybe this time they’d be lucky.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser I'm not placing my bet yet. 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 28, 2011 4:35 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

How about now? by Renée Errant {Chaser}
Her outrage at being intercepted (again) was swiftly overcome by her spiteful pleasure at seeing Linus take the Quaffle back so soon. Turning her broom around she followed the youngest Crotalus chaser, flanking his right side, the wind and heat growing more forceful with every second that passed. It was the breeze caused by flapping robes and enforced speed that made her aware of her perspiration. It brushed along the beads of sweat that had soaked through her hair, dotted her forehead, trickled down the nape of her neck. The hammer that battered her thigh hadn’t ceased, but its tempo had slowed down, the pain rippling in lesser waves up and down her right leg. None of this made her tired, and even in her frustration she wasn’t exhausted, she was thrilled, she was excited. Despite the fact that it really did suck to lose to Aladren again and again (thoroughly spent and slumped on her bed, unable to muster enough energy to change just yet, gripping her pillow and attempting to tear off what she saw as a faceless Aladren’s head), she couldn’t deny that playing against them ruined all other games for her. This was what Quidditch was meant to be. What it should be. Feel like always.

She became free a few times, and attempted to catch Linus’ eye, but he just kept on going. The stadium was a blur, the players were a blur, and all Renée could clearly see was the Quaffle kept tight in Linus’ grip. ‘Okay, alright, let’s just do it.’ She increased her speed, understanding Linus’ plan, and stripped past him, ready for him to pass ahead, the Aladren goals nearing, the Aladren Keeper’s form sharpening in her vision, and another chance for Crotalus too was coming up. Thoughts and hopes wilted away. Instincts and purpose bloomed. Turning slightly, sensing familiar movement in the air, Renée kept flying straight, her speed unchanging, her left hand letting go of the Febre to catch Linus’ direct pass. At once she was rising in the air, her thighs (she ignored the burn) clamped tightly on the broom, using her whole body to jerk it up as she rose swiftly into the air; less wind resistance when she shot up completely straight. Again, her body remembered the arrow.

Her hand was clamped down tightly on the red leather, the orb pressed against her chest, and her brown eyed vision seemed to have sharpened. She saw the hoops clearly, the Keeper clearly, and several possibilities made themselves known to her in seconds. And she had only seconds left to make a choice. Aladren knew her affinity for feints, but it was just stupid to take a direct shot at a capable keeper. Unless he... thought she was going to feint. Or, she could feint at the goals and pass the Quaffle to either Sam or Linus to take the shot. She would, she could, but all they’d done was pass pass pass again and pass. She was bored, she was impatient, she was frustrated, she needed to at least try for another goal. Now. When they finally came across their very rare chance in the game. She wasn’t going to waste Linus’ risky flight down the pitch.
She palmed the Quaffle, still rising in the air, throwing her weight forward, the broom tilting down just as she had risen above the metal ringed hoops. Her friends one day, enemies another. ‘Left hoop...’ She made a half-hearted feint toward it, her body and eyes already switching toward the middle ring, only her arm attempting to convince the Keeper of her intention. ‘Middle hoop...’ Her arm shot forward, not like an arrow, like a catapult pulled back, stretched as far as it would go, until finally it had reached its limit and sprung forward and the Quaffle left its hold... her right hand grabbed it and her broom which was tilted toward the left hoop flew, her left arm ending its motion to fall at her side, and Renée took a shot at the left goal hoop, continuing to fly past, a sharp turn to prevent flying into the stands.

She resisted the urge to sag on her broom, thankful that she’d found away to distract from the pain in her thigh. Both arms had been strained with the force she’d exerted. Her final shot had been an arrow. In her vague peripheral vision she had glimpsed the fast speed and direction as it shot toward a potential goal. Renée looked toward Aladren goals with cleared eyes, trying to discern what had happened; fortune, or delayed gratification.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} How about now? 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 28, 2011 8:23 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

He'd be prudent not to bet with you now, too. by Arthur Carey, Chaser
Arthur saw the reddish shape overhead, but somehow froze, finding himself unable to react to this intrusion until it was far too late to do anything about it and he was, for a moment, just hanging in the air, going the wrong way, feeling slightly stunned. In the back of his mind, part of him was aware that this was not the proper thing to do and shrieking commands at his hands and legs to go about the processes which would be necessary to reverse all this, but they weren’t listening. Which frightened him, making it worse.

It only lasted for a moment, though, before he started to get himself back in hand. His hands worked first, if only awkwardly and not at their most efficiently, and he managed to get the broom turned around again and start back in the direction the game was now taking. Back, back toward the Quaffle, there he went, he’d rather like it if his brother would catch the Snitch right now, but he would just keep going until then. Keep going, keep going, get the Quaffle back….

…Or see Russell get the Quaffle back. That was also good. Arthur shrugged, forcing himself to focus. Just a bit more, and they would be back to the goals; just a bit more, and they’d score. Mr. Sawyer had improved, but no one won every time. No one succeeded every time – even Arnold, Arthur was pessimistically sure, would fail one day. It might only be one day, but it would come nevertheless. Mr. Sawyer would not succeed every time, any more than Arnold would, than Arthur would, than Miss Errant would. Sooner or later, she’d miss an interception, and he hoped dearly that he’d be there to see it. He hoped especially that he’d be the one completing it, or at least be the initiator.

This time, though, he was hoping that he would win, and Mr. Sawyer would lose. Though it seemed it wasn’t to be on this turn. Mr. Macaulay got the Quaffle back, and then - oh, dear, Miss Errant had it again.

Once again, non-fatally but disablingly poisoning her the night before the next time Crotalus was set to play Aladren and pinning it on Miss Bennett, with her indiscreet little grudge, occurred to him as the most tactically sound move Aladren could make if they could find a way to ensure she got the poison without being close enough for it to be traced back to them. Not something he’d actually do, not over a Quidditch match, but it was a nice little moment of fantasy. Then he got back to the game. Stealing it from her was always a pleasure, if only because she seemed to interfere in his affairs more than any of her associates did and because she was often rather…flamboyant. He disapproved of her style, and showing her how ineffective she was not something he felt any remorse about enjoying.

But she didn’t pass. She ran on, toward the goals. And, before he quite noticed that he was planning to do it, he was copying a move Miss Errant herself had used more than once in their acquaintance on this Pitch and flying ahead, taking advantage of her not noticing he was on the right side of her at the right time, to fly forward, beneath her turn, and pull the Quaffle out of play before Mr. Wilkes ever had time to figure out if he could do anything with her twisty thought processes. It hit his hands with more force than he'd expected, and he almost fumbled for a second, but then he pulled it back out and had it in hand and the Aladren goals were secure again.

Because he had some care for his dignity and some more care for his neck, though, he did not pause to smile at her, or comment, or interact with her further in any way, instead rising and going over everyone’s heads, lifting the game higher into the air for the moment, to get away from the immediate area. Then, once he was clear, he dove again in case any Beaters had taken the opportunity to spot him, and then he rose again, flying even, now, crossing ground and hoping his luck held. If they got it back, he had no intentions of letting them just carry it back to the Aladren goals without anyone having much of a chance to do something about that, up to and including flying across their path if a Bludger didn’t appear.

Finally, though, he passed, making an underhanded throw to one of the other blue uniforms around him and then going on the defense, swooping at the nearest Crotalus Chaser and thinking, even as he enjoyed the degree of his control over his broom, of his next move, to push Crotalus back and keep the Quaffle moving in the direction he wanted it to, back toward Mr. Sawyer and his goals, while they all waited for Arnold and Miss Stephenson to get on with it so they could all go have some food, water, and sleep and feel better in the morning.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser He'd be prudent not to bet with you now, too. 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Edmond Carey, Beater
December 28, 2011 8:54 PM

Edmond Carey, Beater
Peripheral
Written by:

Yes, but for how long? by Edmond Carey, Beater
The Crotalus Beater had heart, Edmond would give him that. In three or four years, he’d probably be quiet good at this. However, by then, Edmond would be safely graduated and well out of it, and it wouldn’t matter much to him if the other fellow burned out in second year or went pro with it. He certainly wasn’t going to; he’d never had much of a taste for even the pseudo-war that Quidditch was, and any taste he’d had for it he’d lost. He would have quit last year, if he hadn’t already been Assistant Captain and been obliged to stay.

Arnold…Edmond could almost see that. The family should have no objection; Quidditch players were expected to be role models for the community and rapidly, if they were any good and especially if they had the luck to be in a distinctive position, gained large popularity whether they were actually persons of character or not, which would make one the kind of good PR they were usually in need of, and Merlin knew the boy was either the best actor who ever lived or else completely bereft of the kind of skills the family seemed to find most useful. He was bright enough, could handle physical adversity, but Edmond just didn’t see him engaging in the kind of petty politicking and constant drama that seemed to define adult family life. Edmond still had no idea how he was going to deal with it, though he supposed he’d have to work it out fast, with the end of the calendar year drawing close and the end of his academic career coming not far behind it.

All in the future, though. For now, his play had been foiled, but not by enough to matter much, and by the way he was holding himself, it seemed that the Crotalus Beater had succeeded in hurting himself as he tried to deflect the Bludger. Edmond supposed that must have been painful – just continuing to Beat after you got tired could be painful, and that had been in close enough quarters, and against a Bludger hit hard by a significantly stronger opponent – but that was to his advantage, so he tried to think like a Carey as he passed the other Beater and hit the Bludger back on its original course, heading for Marissa.

Crotalus did have good luck as far as its Beaters went, though. If they’d been his players, he would have commended them highly, with the expectation of them both becoming captains in due time. They had enough spirit to almost make up for their lack of stature.

Almost. He imagined that once he was gone, they would do quite well in these games. But he would gone, and it would not concern him anymore. Once he left, he would be surprised if he got on a broom more than a few times a year, and he never expected to pick up a Beater’s bat, or play Quidditch in any position, again.

0 Edmond Carey, Beater Yes, but for how long? 0 Edmond Carey, Beater 0 5

Topher Calhoun, Beater
December 28, 2011 9:15 PM

Topher Calhoun, Beater
Peripheral
Written by:

Betting on this match seems like a bad idea for everyone by Topher Calhoun, Beater
By the second time Crotalus reached the Aladren goals, most of Topher’s initial optimism about this game had faded away. Maybe they’d come out of this covered in glory, but if they didn’t come out of it covered in even more blood, it would only be because the Chasers stayed in too much of a useless knot for him to do anything with. One time, he had thought he had a decent shot at one of the Aladren Chasers, but then Renee had darted too close to the guy, apparently trying to play tag or something, and made it impossible without risking further injury to her. Which he did not think would be the smartest course of action for him to take. How many hits could anyone take before they stopped working, anyway? He didn’t know, exactly, but he was guessing that it wasn’t a high number, and getting one of them from friendly fire would just be icing on the pretty darn unwelcome cake.

Finally, though, at last, he got an opening that Preston or Edmond or his own Chasers didn’t mess up before he could take it when Arthur Carey pulled away from the goals and then went out with the Quaffle, running with it. He was a great target, very helpfully the largest of the three Aladren Chasers, and he had an annoying habit of being able to appear in more places more quickly than the other two, generally. Taking him out might not completely turn this game around in Crotalus’ favor, but it would be a good step in that general direction.

Carey pulled off some fancy work at the beginning, so Topher’s first shot at him missed, but he followed the Bludger and made another as the flight course seemed to stabilize, this time aiming at the guy just as he tried to pass the Quaffle off to another Aladren Chaser. Well! An unforeseen advantage. If the shot didn’t go completely as planned, then it might very well still hit an Aladren, and whichever it hit, or even if it hit no one at all, it might disrupt the pass, giving Crotalus a chance to get back in it. David Wilkes had yet to be tried at all, and it seemed like a shame to let him go the whole game without a shot his Chasers didn’t interrupt, and surely they could only do that so many times.

Unless, of course, Aladrens were stranger than he thought and there was some kind of arrangement so each of them would steal the ball from a Crotalus shot, in which case Russell still had to do it, but come on. There had to be limits, and that was sailing right past them into strangeness. That wasn’t the safest move to attempt anytime, and surely they couldn’t be that arrogant.

0 Topher Calhoun, Beater Betting on this match seems like a bad idea for everyone 0 Topher Calhoun, Beater 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
December 28, 2011 9:47 PM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

That's one of the questions by Arnold Carey, Seeker
Edmond was back. That was good. A Bludger was heading for Marissa. That was better. A Crotalus Beater was interfering with that. That wasn’t so good. But then Edmond was there again, so they were back to where they had been.

Arnold looked down, looking anywhere for anything that looked like the Snitch – and thought he saw it. Right over there. Right where….

For the first time since the Bludger hit him, Arnold smiled just a little. Right there, running along with the Chasers. Oh, this was going to be fun. He loved it when he got to go down in the midst of the game; for one thing, adding him to the mess of Chasers made it much less likely that he’d get hit again, since that would risk their own players and probably Marissa, too, in that chaos, and for another…it was just fun! The one thing he didn’t like about his position was the comparative isolation of it, the way he could get separated from the energy of it, which was one reason he liked it when his opponents actually played against him and drug some Beaters into the fun instead of each of them just playing at their own ends of the Pitch.

Of course, he wasn’t here to have fun. Of course not. He was here to get the Snitch. But if he could chase it through the Chasers a little, and then catch it…well, no harm, no foul, and maybe he’d succeed in annoying the Crotalus Chasers a little. Particularly Miss Errant; she was a person of no reputation, repellant habits, and, worst of all at the moment, continual annoyance to his brother.

That Arthur was most likely just as much of an annoyance to her, always stealing her passes just as she did his, as she was to him was something which had occurred to Arnold, but he brushed it aside. It wasn’t really very important.

He dove without waiting to see what had become of his opponent, or what the Beaters were doing, trusting to his broom to get him well out of danger if the tide had somehow turned and the Bludger was heading for him again. By the time he came to where the Snitch had been, though, the game had moved on, and he was more or less alone, the action moving away from him, back toward David, and the Snitch was, once again, nowhere in sight. He scanned everything twice, shading his eyes against the sun, but nothing shiny.

For lack of anything else to do at the moment, he waved to the faceless, from here, figure of the Crotalus Keeper, who was unoccupied for almost the first time all game, and then flew on, rising a little again in case everyone suddenly came back, seeking both the Snitch, if it had proceeded ahead of him, and the relative safety of having people all around again. It could be thrilling for a minute, but he didn’t like being alone too long on the Pitch, both because he was thinking of the Bludgers however often he was accused of never doing that and because he was just not someone who enjoyed being alone very much. He practiced in MARS more often than he did on the real Pitch these days when he was on his own because even though it was the same size technically, it didn’t feel as big and empty and lonely as the real outdoors did when no one else was around and he was trying to concentrate on the Snitch instead of just the endless expanse of empty air all around.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker That's one of the questions 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 28, 2011 10:17 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Betting's a bad habit, anyway by Arthur Carey, Chaser
As the ball left his hands, Arthur heard the crack of bat on Bludger. That could be ill, could be good – he wouldn’t know until he saw more, which meant taking his eyes from the pass and not knowing how it turned out.

He saw Mr. Calhoun, and he saw the Bludger. It was heading for him. Oh, drat. That wasn’t the way he wanted this to go. No more than he’d wanted things to go so that he ended up here in the first place, anyway, at least right now; they should have won the twenty points a minute ago, at the other end, not had this long reversal down the Pitch. A curse on it.

This time, though, at least he wasn’t frozen. As he saw the ball coming toward him, he got out of the way, flying back and going along with it when he realized he was starting to tip over, rolling in the air with both hands firm on his broom for a moment in an attempt to avoid the Bludger, which he could hear after him. That was an unfortunate sound, the one they made when they were going through the air; it was enough to set his teeth on edge by itself, enough to shake someone’s nerves, if they let it. He had no intention of letting it, but still…it set his teeth on edge.

They slipped off each other with another faint sound which he also found unpleasant when his best efforts proved insufficient to get him away from the Bludger. It took him on the side of the leg, just above the knee; a glancing blow, he supposed, but painful enough for that. Still, he didn’t complain. If the angle had been just a little different, it would have either broken his arm or hit the side of his abdomen, maybe breaking ribs, or at least knocked the air out of him, each of which would have been worse than what he had right now.

Still, it was bad enough. He had hoped to get out of this in one piece. It would have been much more pleasant for him, much more agreeable for the team, so they could all celebrate their victory at the end as a group somewhere other than the hospital tent, where he and his brother were both going to end up, and likely a few others by the end, along with the Crotalus wounded. It really had been inevitable that this game was going to be violent; he was only surprised Aladren was doing so well right now.

Hopefully, it would continue to go so well for them, but he wouldn’t bet on it. He had to look for the Quaffle now, though, before he wasted any time gambling. He would figure out what had happened to the ball after he fled the Bludger, figure out what he should do about that, and then get back in the game as quickly as possible.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser Betting's a bad habit, anyway 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 28, 2011 11:05 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

Not really, it's only divination. by Renée Errant {Chaser}
‘That wasn’t... that wasn’t... that wasn’t...’ Renée’s mind struggled to form a comprehensive thought. Images replaced words; her shot speeding toward the goal, Arthur Carey intercepting, taking her Quaffle, speeding away, Renée following, leaping off her broom to land on his, her fists raining down on him, pummeling every inch of flesh she could reach until he bled as red as the Quaffle he’d stolen. ‘That wasn’t... that wasn’t... that wasn’t...’ No, punching wasn’t enough. Her elbow striking his nose, waiting for that delicious crack of bone. ‘That wasn’t... that wasn’t... that wasn’t...’ Strangulation. Suffocation. All the breath escaping from his body until he’d sag. ‘THAT WASN’T FAIR!’ She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Anger seemed too simple a label. Rage, maybe, but still too simple. Was there a word to describe... what was that word?

That frustration of searching for a glove that she was sure she’d just held in her hand, the stench of wet trash lining the streets of Brooklyn, squeezed in an elevator with too many people, squirming in a public place without a place to go to the bathroom, ink bottle spilling over and staining white clothes, the feeling she felt when stripping off her clothes and looking into the mirror, eyes running over all the curves in her body she wasn’t sure were good to have, wind blowing too hard causing the umbrella to flip and break, drenching her in cold cold freezing rain. Whatever the word was for that, whatever summed up all that feeling, that was what she was feeling now.

She wanted to be a Beater suddenly. She wanted to grab a bat and have the valid excuse to hit bludgers at people. See their bones crack, blood squirt from their worthless persons. A specific worthless person. She’d originally only become Chaser because the assistant captain had claimed seeker, and her older brother Gabriel was a Chaser and would perhaps shower her with more attention if she followed in his footsteps. But now that Gabriel had proved himself incapable of being there for her anyway (there wasn’t much room for a sister when you had practically three wives and several bastard children) Beater seemed the way to go.

Her mind continued to spiral in anger as her body attempted to reboot from utter numbness. Keepers making saves, blocking her shots, that she could deal with. That she could accept. Because that was the nature of the game. She could remember once interfering with that natural format, maybe two or three years ago, blocking a shot that was heading toward Nic, saving the goals herself. But that hadn’t been the role of Chaser then, and it wasn’t now. Chasers passed the Quaffle, intercepted the Quaffle, and took shots at the goals. If they made saves then the role of Keeper would have been unnecessary. McLevy was younger and stupid like Renée had been when she’d blocked a shot. Carey was older and knew the rules. Chasers acting like Keepers was deception, was lies, and was Not Fair.

Heat spiked in her dark fingers, traveling up her skin, rushing with the strong upward current of boiling blood. Fingers, hands, wrists, arms, shoulders, back and neck, hips and head, rushing down her thighs, knees, the full length of her leg, her calves, her feet, toes. No longer numb, now encased in her own enraged fire, Renée shot off, a bullet fired from a tightly held gun. CRACK. A bludger was hit, not really close to her, and she kept flying. CRACK. Closer this time, a bludger was hit but still not any danger of hitting her. She kept her eyes on the Quaffle, watching as it traveled through the air, determined to get it, win it back, and this time she would take a shot and this time Aladren would respect the damn rules. Maybe the Aladren Keeper would make the save, maybe not, but he would be doing his own job and not allow his Chasers to do the dirty work for him.

Arthur Carey had the Quaffle still, pushing the game further toward Crotalus goals. He rose above the players, Renée stayed straight, he dove below the players, Renée stayed straight, he rose again even with most of them, Renée pulled up right behind him. He made the pass and she shot forward, a million scents and feelings rushing up at her all at once; heat from the Arizona sun, far hotter than in New York but less potent than the cruel one in Spain. She thought about Seville, she thought about how hot it could get there too. Lying in the garden, dark hair curled and entwined with the flower stems, her nose pressed into the grass, her ears filled with the voices of everybody in her life except one that told her how bad a girl she was, how horrible she was, how she needed to change, fit in more, calm down more, seep back into the grey shadows, the black and white portrait of characters that thought they were colorful. She was better than them, she would conquer them, she would rise and fly and be free. The sun couldn’t pin her down for long.

She caught the Quaffle against her chest and dove for clear space, turning around and leaning forward, chest pinning the Quaffle to the broom, heading back toward Aladren goals. ‘Pass, pass, and then a shot. And then we shoot. And then someone scores a goal.’ It seemed incredible that still they were fighting for only ten points. Her body (sweating, throbbing, strained) was convinced it was fighting for the entirety of the game. But there was no point in doing anything without putting - without giving everything she had. She never wondered, never questioned, never thought about why she gave herself to Quidditch. Her family was a lie, the friends she had back home were never seen, the friends she had at school... the friend she had was gone, and she couldn’t see much of a future past Sonora. What would she be? What could she be? Fourteen and life was over. Fourteen and life was only Quidditch because she’d been told marriage was not for her, society was not for her, and those things that didn’t matter before now mattered and though she’d never had them and had lived well without them, now she knew she was supposed to care. The only thing she did right by her family (lying, deceitful, rule breaking family) was care.

Her family was a lie, friendship had disintegrated, but Quidditch had rules. Rules couldn’t be broken. Rules kept her safe.

She saw a teammate and raised herself up for a pass, gripping the Quaffle, but as she turned to make sure she was clear she saw the distinctive robes of an Aladren. ‘Not yet.’ She swerved, nearing closer to her teammate, still speeding toward Aladren Goals, her skin sensitive to nearby opposing chasers. ‘Not yet...’ She feinted toward one of them, hoping to throw someone off (hopefully not her own teammate) but as they still weren’t open she had no choice but to keep flying, frustration (so much of that this game) tightening her chest, quickening her shallow breath. She needed to get rid of this ball, and ready for the next pass that could potentially lead to another goal, or assist in a goal. ‘Not yet...’ So much heat, she might melt. ‘Not yet...’ So much wind, she might be blown away. ‘Now!’ She didn’t believe in G-d, but was resolved to convert if her pass was completed. ‘Straight like an arrow. Straight like an arrow. Straight like an arrow.’ It shot just a little ahead of her teammate, able to be easily caught by him if he continued a half second in his current direction.

Renée saw blue robes from above and shot up, using her body as a shield, hoping to deter their course. No smile, no gritted teeth, not even rage played across her face. She was playing within the rules, lost within them, suspended in this odd world of children battling children until either Marissa or Carey decided to pull them back into reality.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Not really, it's only divination. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 28, 2011 11:06 PM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

The medic would probably say Quidditch is, too. by Sam Bauer, Chaser
Yeah, it was official, his teammates were as crazy as the Aladrens. At the moment, though, Sam wasn’t complaining. If they had passed more, it was a pretty sure thing that Crotalus would have lost the ball, at least for a time. That would have been preferable to them getting hurt any further, but they had gotten lucky, and either Preston hadn’t been in a position to shoot at them around his own Chasers or Topher had managed to keep deflecting his attempts. Sam didn’t know which, and didn’t care. So long as they got the ball through the hoop.

That, though, didn’t seem to be in the stars at the moment. He made an inarticulate noise of irritation when Arthur Carey decided that Kitty McLevy shouldn’t be the only person on their team to do something flashy and role-inappropriate and swept in to intercept Renée’s shot. Really, now? Had that been necessary?

He contemplated shouting something insulting at the Keeper, the Assistant Captain who’d appeared right off the alternate’s bench and had never played a game before, to try to undermine his confidence for the next time, but finally decided he didn’t have the time or energy for it right now. He had a Quaffle to run after, and he couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head that put into words exactly what he wanted to convey. It might just come across as ridiculous if he didn’t have it together.

Besides, he thought as he flew away, he would be shaking hands with the guy next year, weird as that sounded to him still, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Wilkes didn’t have a stronger grip than he did. Better not to give the other guy a personal reason to want to damage his hand when he’d already have a professional one, and Aladren had always struck him as only a hair above dirty tactics. A thin, thin hair indeed.

He flew after the Aladrens, and when Carey had to move away from a Bludger, he took his chance and flew in to intercept the Quaffle. Once he had it, he turned back and flew back toward the Aladren goals.

Arthur had covered a lot of ground, though, and there was definitely a Bludger pretty close to them, and Preston Stratford wasn’t going to let it stay aimed at an Aladren for long, so Sam felt that odd sensation of someone staring fixedly at the points of his shoulders directly beneath his neck pretty quickly, and passed. Charlie had always taught them never to carry the Quaffle for long, to keep their possession times short and their passes short and frequent, and Crotalus had been having pretty good luck with keeping the Quaffle between them, too.

Really, it was probably a moment of panic, but he preferred not to own that. Better to work up a justification for it, so it sounded a bit better in his head. Better now, he’d forget it later.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser The medic would probably say Quidditch is, too. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 28, 2011 11:33 PM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

Re-Writing. by Sam Bauer, Chaser
Yeah, it was official, his teammates were as crazy as the Aladrens. At the moment, though, Sam wasn’t complaining. If they had passed more, it was a pretty sure thing that Crotalus would have lost the ball, at least for a time. That would have been preferable to them getting hurt any further, but they had gotten lucky, and either Preston hadn’t been in a position to shoot at them around his own Chasers or Topher had managed to keep deflecting his attempts. Sam didn’t know which, and didn’t care. So long as they got the ball through the hoop.

That, though, didn’t seem to be in the stars at the moment. He made an inarticulate noise of irritation when Arthur Carey decided that Kitty McLevy shouldn’t be the only person on their team to do something flashy and role-inappropriate and swept in to intercept Renée’s shot. Really, now? Had that been necessary?

He contemplated shouting something insulting at the Keeper, the Assistant Captain who’d appeared right off the alternate’s bench and had never played a game before, to try to undermine his confidence for the next time, but finally decided he didn’t have the time or energy for it right now. He had a Quaffle to run after, and he couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head that put into words exactly what he wanted to convey. It might just come across as ridiculous if he didn’t have it together.

Besides, he thought as he flew away, he would be shaking hands with the guy next year, weird as that sounded to him still, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Wilkes didn’t have a stronger grip than he did. Better not to give the other guy a personal reason to want to damage his hand when he’d already have a professional one, and Aladren had always struck him as only a hair above dirty tactics. A thin, thin hair indeed.

Renée, Merlin be thanked for her, got the ball back from them out of the pass. Arthur had covered a lot of ground, though, and there was definitely a Bludger pretty close to them, and Preston Stratford wasn’t going to let it stay aimed at an Aladren for long, so Sam felt that odd sensation of someone staring fixedly at the points of his shoulders directly beneath his neck pretty quickly and expected a pass. Charlie had always taught them never to carry the Quaffle for long, to keep their possession times short and their passes short and frequent, and Crotalus had been having pretty good luck with keeping the Quaffle between them, too. So there was a good chance there was going to be a pass.

There was, and he took it. Unfortunately, he realized after the fact that this meant he was going to have to shoot. He wasn’t their best shooter; he would do, but he wasn’t their best. Not much of an option, though; if he tried to pass it again, the Aladrens were sure to intercept, and then he’d be in for it. So he moved as though preparing to go left before reversing and going to the center hoop, crossing his fingers for luck against the other Assistant Captain.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser Re-Writing. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

David Wilkes, Keeper
December 29, 2011 12:03 AM

David Wilkes, Keeper
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 14

Succeeding! by David Wilkes, Keeper
David had realized things were coming back his way and tensed, feeling his heart rate speeding up alarmingly quickly as he thought about it. He had gotten lucky once, with Kitty intervening like that; he couldn’t expect that again, for something to happen so it just fell in his hands and the game moved back toward Nic without him having to risk anything. Without him having a chance to win anything, either, that was a legitimate point, but he would rather not win than lose. He blamed it on the kind of conditioning he’d gotten from his messed-up mother, who was a whole separate breed from his messed-up father’s completely wackadoodle family.

He rewound that thought sequence far enough to realize he had just thought poorly of his mother, admitted that while she was more functional than Dad’s family, that hers was still the reason why he didn’t agree with the famous Tolstoy quote on the basis that there were no truly happy families, that they all had their skeletons and their relatives who were discussed when they weren’t present and all that. If he was thinking of that, then he was near panic. That was…probably not good.

There was something his lungs were supposed to do, some kind of in and out motion. It would make air go in, carbon monoxide or whatever go out, and that process would make him feel better. He reminded his lungs of this process, forced them to go through that process. Breathing, he thought it was called. It was a good idea. He kind of liked it. It would help with blocking the shot whenever it came.

Oh, heck. Renée Errant. He was going to mess it up, and then the team would gang up on him and end him. Oh, this was great, he did not like this. He was doomed –

Flash of blue, and then –

He blinked, startled. The ball was no longer heading toward him. It was heading away from him. Arthur had just come out of nowhere, the way Kitty had come out of nowhere, and taken the ball away. How had that happened?

And, more importantly, was he the luckiest guy on this Pitch, or just the least trusted? He’d really prefer to think of it as the former, but he was starting to wonder.

That thought didn’t stick in his head long, though. As the ball moved away, his pulse began to go back toward normal as he took an interest in what was going on in the game. Maybe it was just the aftermath of the panic, but somehow, even when things started heading back toward him, he didn’t really register it, and was looking for one of the others to turn the situation around again when he realized that no, Russell wasn’t about to join the brigade of his saviors, and he was going to have to save this one on his own.

He just had to think like practice, that was all. Watch hands especially, watch bodies and brooms, too, and be prepared to move the second he saw them about to, so he didn’t get messed up. So it was Sam Bauer; it wasn’t as easy as it would have been if they’d been the ones in blue robes instead of red ones when there was a red Quaffle, but he saw him not pass, and saw the ball approaching –

He leaned out, not even trying to grab it, just to keep it from going through, and felt it smack into his wrist and bounce off. He knew he should go after it, but was more concerned with getting his balance back, since he had thrown his center of balance off for a second and now felt like he was going to fall. Not good, not good, and he was pretty sure the Aladren Chasers were good enough to get it back on their own, anyway, without letting the Crotali get in there and steal.

At least, he really, really hoped they were.

16 David Wilkes, Keeper Succeeding! 169 David Wilkes, Keeper 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 29, 2011 12:37 AM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Good for you by Arthur Carey, Chaser
She had it again. Arthur supposed he should have expected it, when two things didn’t go his way in as many minutes. Now, this made three. He shrugged it off, reminding himself it was really a minor matter – it was hard to remember sometimes, playing the game; sometimes, he became emotional and had muddled, incoherent, and useless thoughts because of his emotions during the game, but he had been taught that emotions clouded his judgment and that he should proceed, whenever possible, in utter calm well before he ever came to Sonora, and so he did keep them pushed down even here as much as he could – and went back in, looking to get the Quaffle back.

He made an attempt when she passed to Mr. Bauer, but he was distracted by the pain in his leg, and so only just avoided colliding with her when she blocked him. Fair enough, fair enough; he’d attempted to do the same thing to her just a moment earlier. He smiled pleasantly enough and withdrew, waiting for the next opportunity to reclaim the Quaffle for Aladren and reserving his irritation for Mr. Wilkes if he dared to let a shot in, after Mr. Sawyer had only done so when he was taken completely aback and had not even really slipped since.

Calm irritation, though. Being openly antagonistic was stupid. It was the one thing he found incomprehensible about Eliza Bennett. Did she not realize that anyone could do anything to Miss Errant, and she’d be an easy choice to be made to take the fall for it because the whole school, at this point, knew that Miss Bennett hated her? The best thing she could have done would have been to appear to make very good friends with Miss Errant, then destroy her, only letting her know it had been Miss Bennett – if she absolutely had to gloat – after it was done, Miss Errant defeated, and she as secure as she could be once she opened her mouth in front of anyone.

Of course, he only knew the theory of these things, not the practice – the only person he truly had strong, lasting bad feelings toward was his grandfather, and he didn’t think he’d done the best job of concealing this, since Grandfather didn’t like him, either. Perhaps he should make a minor little enemy just to practice. He’d have to think on that later.

Anyway, it wouldn’t be Mr. Wilkes, not just now, anyway. His performance was not good enough to get him elevated to ‘David’ in Arthur’s internal vocabulary, the way the rest of the team had gained first names over the past three years, but he kept the Quaffle from going through the hoop. It was enough for now.

For now, when Arthur had to get the falling Quaffle before Miss Errant could lay hand to it again, and no doubt attempt to pay them back for the way Katrina had scored her ten points earlier in the game. He flew fast, ignoring the Keeper as he regained his balance in favor of snatching the red ball out of the air.

Now, to get back. He chose what seemed to him to be the most direct route, which was flying through the goal posts and looping back around where he had more room, rather than chancing it on a very narrow turn where he might collide with another player, maybe even one of his own. Once he was pointing in the right direction again, he accelerated, going so fast back toward the Crotalus goals that the ground was reduced to a streaky blur and he began to feel a little dizzy himself. They went fast as a matter of course, but this was pushing it even by that standard.

Still, nothing to be done about it. They had to get it back to the other end, or at least a considerable way back that way. Really, it was all just stalling for time while Arnold caught the Snitch….

He began to slow in order to have a chance of passing, since he didn’t think any of them were good enough to pass at that speed, they were not professionals yet, and blinked as he was pretty sure he saw his brother where his brother should not have been. It was not, however, exactly the moment for that, so he ignored the hallucination or actual Arnold and instead looked for the nearest other Aladren. Even at his reduced pace, he was still going faster than he really liked to with both hands off the Quaffle, but every inch counted, so he made both hands lift and start a direct pass to one side before he turned suddenly the other way and threw the Quaffle down, grabbing the broom again with first one hand and then the other as soon as it was done.

Very nice. Now to see if it had worked.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser Good for you 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 29, 2011 1:05 AM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

Not really so happy about this as you are. by Renée Errant {Chaser}
Carey collided into her, but she didn’t feel much pain, his presence hardly even registered, and both of them took off, following the Quaffle’s path. She wasn’t sure, but this might have been the game with the most interceptions, at least the most that she’d ever played in. So whenever a pass was completed between her, Sam, and Linus a breath of relief would pass through her body, cooling down the boiling blood. ‘A deal’s a deal. Converting tomorrow, I promise.’ She had hoped to be the one to take another shot at the goals but there were no chances of a pass, both she and Linus shadowed by blue robed players. Unable to do more than flank Sam, she followed him toward the goals, encouraging chants passing through her mind along with half-remembered tips and lessons Charlie had taught her whether in practice or just by example during a game. Sam neared the goals and Renée stripped past him, circling low around the metal goal posts as he prepared to take a shot.

‘Go in... go in... go in...’ The stadium erupted in noise, but she couldn’t discern the garbled cheers from the hisses. She looked up to see the Quaffle bouncing off the Keeper’s wrist, and shot up to reach it... reach it... her arm stretching out... and then Carey grabbed it, streaking past her, circling the goal posts and then, as if fire had caught to the tail end of his broom, sped off back again toward Crotalus goals. Her neck felt tight after twisting her head back and forth to see him, finally straightened and she took off after his initial few seconds start. He was going fast, really really fast, and showed no signs of passing. Renée leant her whole body forward, tucking her chin, feeling the wood against her skin, her eyes squinting through the wind, droplets of sweat slipping from her forehead, sloping the length of her nose, dangling on her long curled lashes. She blinked several times to clear her swimming vision. ‘Come on, come on, pass! Pass so I can steal it from you again!’

He kept on flying, and she kept on following, a few meters of space between them, hoping either Gareth or Topher would hit a bludger toward him again. “Ung!” He began to slow, and she was forced to swerve in order to not crash right into him. She curved to the left, a curse forming on her tongue as she saw his body face the right, and then her eyes widened in excitement when that turned out to be a feint, his body shifting, the Quaffle sailing toward the left instead. ‘Go on, go on, get it!’ She continued her curve but the Quaffle was lower than her hands, she could not grab it, and diving for it would put her at an awkward angle.

SLAP

An audible hit as her leg lashed out, her shin making contact with leather, and since she was in mid-curve the Quaffle flew backwards through the air, at the very least interrupting the Aladren current from flowing all the way back to Nic. A little unsteady, a slight wince as her right leg was now throbbing in both thigh and shin, she completed her turn around and struggled to sharpen her gaze, detect where the Quaffle ended up. Hands, heads, and now legs. Anything, it seemed, to keep the Quaffle from going in less than desirable locations. Her eyes sharpened on the Quaffle, praying (She promised to really actually convert if G-d saw fit to have Crotalus complete the pass again) for either Sam or Linus to have possession of it before her eyes actually registered who held it.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Not really so happy about this as you are. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser
December 29, 2011 1:05 AM

Russell Layne, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 13

Yes, very good, very good. by Russell Layne, Chaser
His pass failed, and at that point, not a lot of things started happening across quite a lot of ground. The ball was to the goals in another change of hands after Linus got it, and then only made it back another after Arthur panicked or got caught up in it all or something (Russell tried not to devote too much time to trying to figure Arthur out; his life seemed too internal for his behavior to be much of a guide to how he was thinking, and following his reading was something Russell suspected might be above his own not-shabby degree of education) and snatched the ball back before David could have his chance with it. He guessed Crotalus was getting desperate, not that he could blame them, but he was disappointed to see his thought about no more Aladrens getting injured going up in smoke as a Bludger hit Arthur.

Not as disappointed, though, as he was to lunge for the Quaffle and miss it instead of keeping it back in Aladren hands. And though it changed hands again before the goals – he guessed they were a bit more comfortable now that they were firmly out of their own territory, and back on the ground where they could make up the ground they’d lost with all the back and forth before their goals – he wasn’t able to get it from that pass any more than Arthur was, and since Russell did not indulge the wild moment of fancy in which he contemplated throwing himself between David and the Quaffle the way the other two already had in this game, Sam Bauer got to shoot.

Not to score, though, which was great. It would have been greater if David had managed to catch the Quaffle in dramatic fashion and then throw it back out, rather than it falling and Arthur having to be quick to make sure the Crotali didn’t get their hands on it, but hey, whatever worked. They had the Quaffle back, and that was what really counted.

They had it, and they were traveling with it fast. Russell wasn’t sure how smart taking a page from Crotalus’ book and then going nuts with it was, but since he wasn’t the guy with the ball, he didn’t get to make the call. He just got to follow along, looking for a chance to receive a pass or be the other party in a feint or block a Crotalus or otherwise help the cause.

Slipping out of formation wasn’t part of that plan, but it worked out all right, anyway, and he found himself, to his surprise as much as anyone else’s, all of a sudden as the one with the Quaffle after Arthur slowed down a little finally. Russell didn’t stop to think much, he just sped up a little again – it did seem more imperative to go fast, it seemed, when he was the guy with the Quaffle and they were trying an extremely risky strategy out of what was most emphatically not desperation – and moved on toward the other end of the Pitch.

After a while, more ground blurring by underneath, he, too, slowed and passed again, a straightforward move since he thought things were moving too fast for much trickery at this point. Even if Crotalus got it back, he was pretty sure they were now closer to Nic than they were to David, which would give them at least one chance to get it back, and David had proven himself anyway. It was all good.

He really would rather this go his way, though. Would really rather it was that way a whole lot. He didn’t realize it, but he was smiling in a way which was not really very amused at all as he looked to see how the pass had gone. Merlin, he wanted this to go as smoothly for them as it had for the Crotali. They didn’t get to have all the crazy-ploy luck.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser Yes, very good, very good. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
December 29, 2011 12:35 PM

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Integrating both posts by Linus Macaulay, Chaser
(OOC: Considering Russell and Renée posted at the exact same time – what are the chances? – I interpreted it as Russell catching the Quaffle first, then Renée intercepting Russell’s pass, as that seemed to make most sense to me. Hope nobody objects!)

For a few precious seconds, Linus believed it had worked. He’d passed, Renee had caught, and then she was going ahead for that goal. Then the Madness of the Aladrens struck again, and not the Keeper, not even Katrina, but one of the other opposition Chasers blocked the shot. If Linus had been the cussing sort, then that moment might have brought out the worst in him, but given that he’d always been led to believe that swearing was a demonstration of a lack of creativity, he merely let out a sharp sigh of frustration as he watched the Quaffle retreat once more.

He was debating whether it would be worth him bothering to turn his tired, battle-scarred broom back around to chase after the ball on this occasion, or whether it would be suitably recovered in less time. Peering over his shoulder, Linus saw the Aladren Chaser-who-thought-he-was-a-Keeper streaking down the pitch a great deal further than was polite, and so he resignedly tugged on his broom, urging the shuddering, squeaking contraption to do his bidding, however reluctant it was becoming. The upside of him successfully completing this manoeuvre was that he was able to bear witness to one of the opposition getting hit by a Bludger – finally – in a manner not to dissimilar form the way in which Renee had been hit earlier. It hadn’t hindered the Quaffle’s progress, but then Renee made another spectacular steal, and before Linus knew it, she was headed back in their direction.

Practically in the same breath, he turned his broomstick back around again – or, more accurately, continued its circle, as Renee came hurtling back up the field. Linus was moving again when the Quaffle passed to Sam, ready to be of use should he be needed. As Sam continued flying, though, Linus saw this wasn’t going to be necessary, as he fellow Chaser was going for another attempt at goals. Hopefully no pesky Aladren chasers would get in the way this time, and they’d finally get to see what the Aladren Keeper was made of. Last year they’d played Katrina in that position, and the now-Assistant captain had just been a reserve player. Hopefully this indicated that he wasn’t really any good, and certainly wouldn’t save as many goals as Nic had done already. That was probably why the Aladren chasers thought they were necessary to protect the goals and the hoops at the same time. In which case, that Quaffle was going to sail through that hoop any second n-…

Darn. It wasn’t the most spectacular save ever witnessed by wizardkind, but it did the trick: Crotalus had yet to score, and despite several mad dashes for the Quaffle, it returned, once again, to Aladren possession. This time, as he turned his broom again (in the other direction this time, just for variation), the sigh Linus let loose was more of resignation than frustration. He was getting tired, as was his broomstick. He just wanted Marissa to hurry and catch that Snitch so they could all go celebrate, shower, and sleep, not necessarily in that order.

Moving a little down the pitch, still sort of circling on the broomstick that had certainly seen better days, Linus felt his spirits drop a little further as the ball was passed from Blue Chaser one to Blue Chaser Two. Once more to the breach, he thought, perhaps a little dramatically as he increased his speed to do as Nic had bade, and keep the Quaffle away from that end of the pitch. Renee was already hot on the heels of the Aladren Chasers, and Linus felt certain she would make an attempt at stealing the ball back. He hadn’t, however, anticipated that she would do so by kicking it haphazardly into the air. Was that even allowed? Until he heard a whistle sounding from the Coach to indicate otherwise, Linus assumed it was all fair game. Keeping his eye on the ball, trained like a true Crotalus player, he rose in line with the Quaffle’s anticipated trajectory, stealing the ball from the air in a full-frontal catch that knocked the wind out of him. He chocked a little, but he had the Quaffle, was still on his broomstick, and had lucked out in something that undoubtedly looked a lot more spectacular to the spectator than his Merry Go Round impression of a few minutes ago.

Shifting the Quaffle so he cradled it in one arm, replacing his other hand back on the broomstick for that extra stability, Linus awkwardly turned the broom again, opting once more for a wide circle, taking him out to the side of the pitch as well as back towards Aladren’s Keeper. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long before Sam or Renee were available for receive a pass. Linus didn’t think his broom would survive another hit by a Bludger, and he wasn’t especially keen to receive one to his person, either. He enjoyed the exhilaration and sense of victory when he got hold of the Quaffle, but then he inevitably almost instantly desired to be rid of the thing. Still, he ought to cover a bit of the ground Aladren had lost them, even if he couldn’t realistically make it all the way back to the goal-scoring area. They were doing as much as they could to keep the ball away from Nic, as requested; perhaps the fifth year should have been more specific in his instructions, ordering the Chasers to score, in addition to preventing him from needing to keep Aladren from doing the same. Sam was the Assistant Captain, however, and as Marissa was otherwise engaged looking for the Snitch that should end the game in their favour, perhaps the other male Chaser on their team should be shouting out encouraging orders, too. Then again, Linus supposed the Chasers all knew their purpose in the game, and perhaps any further instruction for them to do their jobs was considered redundant.

Eventually identifying a plausible passing opportunity, Linus did his usual checks to make sure no Aladrens were around (although he didn’t seem to be very good at this, considering the low success rate of his passes thus far, he thought he may as well try; it had to be more effective than just chancing it, surely). Then he tossed the Quaffle with a strong overarm pass towards his teammate, already preparing himself mentally for judging what his next move should be.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Integrating both posts 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
December 29, 2011 1:06 PM

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 17

What's another? by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Oh, no, Marissa thought as she caught sight of Arnold again. Oh, no, Arnold, don’t do it, don’t do it –

He did not, however, either hear her mental advice or heed it, and was soon heading down, out of the comparative reason of the open air they’d been playing in and right down into the area where he was all but asking the Chasers to nearly run over them at least once. And if the Snitch was there, then she’d have to go, too.

Or if a Bludger was here. That was also a very good argument for going somewhere else. She flew away as quickly as she could, but the game had moved, so there was no one else nearby for it to focus on, and the next moment, she found herself having the woozy thought that only old ladies were supposed to have to worry about broken hips.

Not broken, though. At least she thought and really hoped so, as she clung to her broom in the hopes of staying on it and tried to remember if she was allowed to get out her wand and try to patch herself up a little as she went along. Cepheus, below on the bench waiting to take her place if he had to, had completely left her mind; between the two injuries, now, she was pretty sure that she was back in last year, when it had just been them, no alternates of their own while they were painfully aware of David Wilkes waiting in the wings to save Aladren even on the off chance that their Keeper or Seeker was taken out of the game.

She heard the Bludger coming back and thought of something else: the concept of Pyrrhic victory. Not quite the same thing, she thought – though admittedly, her memory of those summer classes was a little fuzzy right now – but close enough. Gritting her teeth, she pushed her broom as hard as she ever had after Arnold Carey, all but throwing herself at him before veering away as sharply as she could pull off at the moment, hoping the Bludger would have followed her and hit him. Gareth had looked like he took that last deflection pretty hard; there was a chance that if she didn’t even the playing field again, that he would.

Meanwhile, she was fumbling for her wand. She was no great hand at Charms, truth to be told she was little better than a disaster, but she thought she could make it hurt a little less, and she was sure Jose had done something to his broom last year during the game, which meant she could surely do something about her leg in the moment she’d hopefully bought for herself with that play.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker What's another? 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 29, 2011 2:02 PM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

Nicely done. by Sam Bauer, Chaser
As he watched the drama unfold, with Bludgers and circles, Sam found himself entertaining a radical notion about how to make Quidditch more fun for everyone. It seemed to him that the game really would be a lot smoother and less stressful for everyone involved, not least because the audience wouldn’t be tremendously amused with the circles they were going in now, if they just instituted some rule that said Arthur Carey and Renée were both just banned. Or at least had to be locked in a closet together for some hours before a game, so they could just make out or scratch each other’s eyes out or something and get it all out of their systems and not be constantly getting more and more dramatic as the game went on about each other, and not do crazy, stupid things to get the ball away or back from the other.

Since that didn’t seem too likely to happen, he contented himself with thinking that at least the audience was getting its money’s worth today. The girls all got to bite their fingernails and stuff, and there was plenty of time for popcorn. With a slight sigh, he went back to it, looking for an opening to receive a pass from…whoever had the Quaffle now, for all he knew, he did and didn’t even know it, though that didn’t seem terribly likely.

Finally, he determined that Linus had it, after Renée had decided they were really playing soccer and wasn’t that a fun game for the whole family, and he covered him, taking the pass when he made it. Getting tired, and more than a little frazzled with how little progress anyone seemed to be able to make, he decided to just assume Linus had been heading in the right direction and keep going that way, hoping he wasn’t carrying it right back toward Nic. That would be about par for the course for today, but he was assuming it was not the case.

The Aladrens, between them, had managed to cover a lot of ground, so he did not anticipate being the shooter again. Instead, he covered as much ground as seemed prudent when he was on what would, if Linus’ hadn’t been hit, have been the worst broom on the Pitch before seeing an opening and passing before that feeling of the axeman standing behind him got too much for his perhaps occasionally over-active imagination (not his fault, his mental defense attorney asserted; hardly his fault he’d grown up like he had, reading too many comic books and with the constant fun little drama of going to Muggle school when he knew perfectly well he wasn’t a Muggle since Mom couldn’t afford anything with other wizards). Better to stay intact, and have a chance at getting the ball back later when clearly Nic could keep it from scoring for Aladren, than to get broken into pieces like Renée was on her way to being, when there was no telling how long this was going to take and the Aladren Beaters could get bored and decide to have some fun with the Crotalus Chasers any old time now. Not too sensible of them, but it had happened before.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser Nicely done. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 29, 2011 2:34 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

As is this, I think by Arthur Carey, Chaser
Perhaps going so very fast hadn’t been a good idea, after all, because Arthur now found himself without too clear of an idea of what was going on. He’d had the Quaffle, and then Russell had, despite his indulging in the kind of frippery he tended to disapprove of in Miss Errant, had the Quaffle, and…then, as he’d been thinking to take the Quaffle back and make one last push to the goals and another attempt against them, the Quaffle had been nowhere.

He shook his head slightly, trying to get it back in order, and then looked around for the Quaffle, trying too to catch his breath as it came a little too short. Oh, now Mr. Macaulay had it. That was the most interesting name, he quite liked that name, it had so many vowels in it. But his name was not entirely bereft of vowels, and there was nothing wrong the occasional consonant. Or at least, nothing so wrong as they were was with Crotalus having the Quaffle again. He was already following that again without really noticing; it was just what was done at moments like this. The Quaffle moved, and they moved with it; it was easy enough to think that it was really the center of the game, pulling them all this way and that, and that they really had no role in this, whatever. Though that was more like the Snitch, which wasn’t really any of his concern, except that he hoped his brother would get it soon so he could get his leg looked at and not get hurt again and stop using his left arm before it stopped just feeling numb…..

He flexed the fingers on that hand as he flew, willing them to work just a little longer. Much longer, and Arnold and Miss Stephenson would both fall over from simple exhaustion, if not Miss Stephenson from repeated traumas, and then they would surely at least have a moment to rest while the confusion was sorted through.

Then he thought of his brother, and realized he couldn’t really remember the time when Arnold had been tired enough to even really be in poor spirits, never mind actually fall over, and despaired of that option. He just had to hope against hope that Arnold would go ahead and catch the Snitch out of consideration for the rest of them or at least his own injuries – he had said he saw now that it looked different when he wasn’t the one with the injuries after that Charms lesson, had asserted that it really did look pretty bad objectively – since he’d most likely happily keep playing all day just on his own account.

He was on the wrong side to intercept when Mr. Macaulay passed to Mr. Bauer, and so missed that one and lost some time in moving around to focus on Mr. Bauer instead of Mr. Macaulay and Miss Errant, who he’d predicted would repeat their earlier behavior of relying on each other, but it wasn’t enough that he was out of place when Mr. Bauer tried to pass again. Though his right hand, of all the stupid things, chose that moment to have a pain, the last joint of his smallest finger being the worst offender but his wrist getting into it, too, he managed to extract the Quaffle and turn and head back toward Mr. Sawyer with it.

He hadn’t, as it turned out, been wrong when he thought he saw his brother before; the Seekers had come lower. What did they mean by that? Was the Snitch in sight? Merlin, he hoped so. If it was close, then in a race, Arnold would win, and then Aladren would win, and then it would all be over. Then, they could all go accept their congratulations and commiserations and have a rest, finally. He knew he couldn’t be the only one who was starting to be tired; he had never been as strong as he apparently looked, as the family might have liked him to be and he did his best to appear, but he doubted he was the worst here, either, even of those who’d been playing the hardest.

If he was, well, he wasn’t yet to the point of falling over himself, either. It wasn’t as bad as that first Championship had been, when he’d been outright ill afterward. With that cheering thought in mind, he looked for an opening to pass to one of his fellows, without any frills this time just in case, and, seeing it, took it, immediately preparing to turn again if he had to or be in place to catch another pass if his had worked for Aladren. Whatever was necessary to keep things moving along, that was all there was for it.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser As is this, I think 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser
December 29, 2011 3:04 PM

Russell Layne, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 13

I agree. by Russell Layne, Chaser
Keepers occasionally, just occasionally, used their feet to save with, just as they occasionally used their brooms, chests, and even heads to deflect shots if nothing else could quite reach in time and a little more control and better order, but generally, that was about as much footwork as came into Quidditch. Russell guessed nothing should really surprise him when Aladren was playing Crotalus, but that convention was enough in his head that when a foot suddenly sailed into his pass, he was more than a little caught off-guard by it. Where had that come from?

Renée Errant, it quickly became clear. The foot had come from her. She had used it to interrupt the pass, allowing the second year to practically intercept by accident and start the ball back toward David, again, and things were going back to Crotalus again. The measure of sanity restored by his momentary confusion was washed away with annoyance and a desire to get the Quaffle back again. They couldn’t have it.

He tried to intercept when Linus passed to Sam, but missed, frustrating him further. Arthur, though, had better luck the next time the Quaffle left someone’s hands, and as quickly as things had been going Crotalus’ way, they were once more going Aladren’s.

When Arthur passed, Russell was able to catch it pretty easily, all things, including the speed they were moving at and the imminent threat of Crotalus Chasers and all that, considered equally. At any rate, there were no more feet, at least not this time around. If this went on…who knew? Maybe next time, he’d be the one who saw fit to kick something to get it out of play. Turnabout was fair play, at least in Quidditch, he thought, and whether it was technically legal or not, she hadn’t been called on it and it had worked.

Now, though, he had the Quaffle in his hands, so his feet were well out of it, too, and he was flying on, quickly, on toward the Crotalus goals and one more attempt, if the Seekers didn’t get involved at last when they’d seemed pretty content to weave around each other and square dance with the Beaters the whole game, at twenty points. In the back of his mind, he knew those wouldn’t amount to much in the end even if they got them, but that wasn’t his main thought right now, only that it was very important that every attempt possible be made to get them, then to get even more, and not to let Crotalus have any if they could help it.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser I agree. 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
December 29, 2011 3:25 PM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

Who's going to win? by Arnold Carey, Seeker
Arnold heard, distantly, the crack of a bat on Bludger, and made the mistake of looking up and then the bigger mistake of freezing for a moment when he saw Marissa Stephenson flying at him for all she was worth, as though she were intending to rip his head off herself, with the Bludger right behind her.

In his classes, Arnold wasn’t the quickest student, generally. He did very well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not least because it was a class where they often got to move about, pretty well at Charms since that was a very practical class sometimes, and not badly at anything, really, except the occasional presentation for Professor Fawcett which he didn’t consult with Arthur on first and even there he hadn’t yet managed to top that very first one he did in first year, but he was not the model of the exceptional Aladren student. The more complex the concepts got, the less he really understood them, his mind just skimming enough of the surface to write it over again on a test without really internalizing it, and he no more thought of competing for the highest grades in their year than he did of flying to the moon. His roommates could do that very well between themselves without him, and he’d just be friendly to everyone while quietly actually supporting his brother, just on principle.

In Quidditch, though, Arnold was in his element. He didn’t even have to think things through the way he would something else, going through each step in his mind; he just knew things. Right now, for instance, he knew what Marissa was doing as soon as he saw it: she was trying to get him flattened, simultaneously making it less likely that he’d be the one to succeed and that she’d be the one to get hit by that specific Bludger. They had outpaced their Beaters, he noticed, too; it was him or her, now. Therefore, he should move as quickly as possible.

He did that, trying to outrun the Bludger and Marissa at once, not even looking for the Snitch for the moment. Then, when that didn’t work out so well, he tried to just run from the Bludger, which also didn’t go as well as he might have liked; it didn’t hit him in the head, which would have been a disaster, and it didn’t even knock him off his broom, but it did hit his left arm just above the elbow.

Could have been worse, he reminded himself grimly, hanging on to his broom with the other hand as he went after Marissa again, reminding himself that it wasn’t that bad. Not too bad. It’s been worse. Just keep going. Give it back to her and then go on.

Still, that had hurt, and worse than the other time. He thought he felt a little ill, and was definitely going to have to hand this over to the medic and hope he didn’t need to catch with his left hand, and that Whitebriar and Calhoun didn’t decide on a whim to break his other arm, too. He wasn’t sure if he could catch it then; he’d give it his best try, of course, but he wasn’t sure if it would work out right. He would rather not pass out in the attempt to catch the Snitch while the other Seeker got it from right over his head. Passing out once the thing was in his hand was bad enough.

To help, he hoped, ensure he didn't, he dove as though he saw the Snitch further down, then rose again, straight up, before flying the other way, hoping Edmond would try again to hit her and give him the edge back. This wasn't as much fun as usual, knowing that they would be completely ruined if he didn't win this time, and he was starting to just want to end it quickly. Just to be safe.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker Who's going to win? 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 29, 2011 3:50 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Thank you by Arthur Carey, Chaser
It had worked. He didn’t know what he had expected – the ball had, after all, changed hands without incident as many times in this game as it had been intercepted, or at least he thought it had; his memories of the game before the past few moments were sinking into a blur – but Arthur found himself breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that his pass had worked. Russell had the Quaffle, another quick glance revealed that his brother Arnold was still in the air, and Aladren, therefore, still had everything to play for. They were not losing, they were nowhere close to losing. They were going to do just fine.

Admittedly, there was the question of why he cared, but he didn’t feel up to thinking about it at the moment. He liked to win as well as the next person, but had concluded that why it became more than that, sometimes, in Quidditch had something to do with the group nature of the event, with how much everyone else around him wanted it. He didn’t understand people, but he could get swept along with them, if he wasn’t careful, and it was hard to keep his mind firmly in line when he was spending so much time looking for a physical object, focusing his attention on it, running here and there after it, all for the brief highs of successful passes and goals – temporary gratification, but a form which he found difficult to resist. He just couldn’t figure out the why of it, the thing that bothered him about so many things, and people and human feelings and motivations more than anything else. They did not present themselves as good subjects for logical study.

In the frantic movement of Quidditch, though, he didn’t have to think about it too much for once. He just moved and filed away things to try to analyze later, when he had nothing better to do, which was a rare occasion indeed. Arthur prided himself on usually having good and purposeful things to do with his time; it was only in some moods when he found himself becoming overly analytical, picking apart things which didn’t really matter but felt as though they did, as though by picking them apart, he might figure out how things worked and so how to fit in with them. And now, he moved along with Russell, prepared to take the next pass, or pretend to, or chase down an opponent, or whatever seemed necessary in that moment.

What was necessary was, as it turned out, to carry the Quaffle again, leaning out to pull it from the air in the midst of another pass as a guard against interception. Letting it come all the way to him might have provided the exact one moment that someone on the other side would need to get it back, and he was growing tired of going back and forth, or, as they had for a moment there, in a loop. He just wanted to move along smoothly to the goals, then shoot, then see what happened, then get the Quaffle back and shoot again until his brother caught the Snitch. Though, even a run down the Pitch would be better than the constant interceptions and counter-interceptions, though he suppressed that thought as soon as he realized he was having it, superstitiously wondering for a moment if that might make it true. The back and forth was tedious, but it was necessary, it was simply part of the game, and he was here to play the game.

He considered passing again, even raised his hands as though to do so, but then put on another burst of speed, hurrying toward the goals. Time to be done with this, anyway, at least for the moment; if he passed, he was as sure as though he had seen it written on the next page of a book that the pass would be intercepted, and there they would be again. No time for that. Instead, forcing everything from his attention but the goal hoops, he took careful aim at the right, then pulled away toward the center before shooting, at an angle, at the right again, putting as much force as he could into the throw so that, if Mr. Sawyer did succeed in foiling him again, at least he would smart a bit for it.

Now that he thought of it, it was more or less what Katrina had done, what seemed like a lifetime ago, back at the start of the game. Was it the one she’d scored on, or had she made an attempt and then had it repulsed, only then to intercept the ball on its way back to Crotalus and shoot again? He couldn’t remember, he’d have to ask her later. He had not paid much mind to her after the games last year, since she had not gotten much to do in them, but he wondered now if she would be like his brother, perpetually aware of her own plays and ready to discuss them at the drop of a wearisome old hat.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser Thank you 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 29, 2011 8:35 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

Watching Faithfully by Renée Errant {Chaser}
Linus caught the freely thrown (kicked) ball and Renée added that move to her list of things she was determined to practice practice practice long after she’d mastered it. Even though the stands were a blur, the alternating cheers and hisses too confusing to analyze, she was still a performer, even if she sometimes forgot her audience. Quidditch was a game where twelve players were largely dependent on a special two that held the majority of the power. At Sonora, where catching the snitch and not accumulating points pushed you onto the next game, it really only mattered what the seekers were doing. The Chasers were there for show, and Renée preferred to give a good one. ‘Within the rules.’ Her eyes drifted over the blue robed chasers before focusing on both Linus and Sam. Her anger had spurred her on before, but she knew it easily became a distraction. She breathed in and out deeply; belly filling with air, then gently deflating, her breath seeping out.

Linus did a good overhand pass to Sam. She watched its arc, and realized that despite their misfortune, Linus really was a good passer. Their positions all shifted as again (so many agains in this game, so many back and forths, so many redundancies that she lived for, played for, and aggravated over) they attempted an assault on Aladren Goals. The Keeper had blocked Sam’s shot but it had been a close call. If they just applied more pressure, pushed Wilkes a little further, she was confident they’d get the next score. Her dark eyes flickered from the surrounding, weaving, speeding opposing chasers back to Sam, watching his arm raise and she tensed on her broom. She could feel another presence nearby but was too focused on the Quaffle to look. Sam passed and she swerved closer but there was still just enough space in the air for Carey to barge in and grab it. Her own hand grasped air, and she turned her broom around, not so sharply this time, a more gradual curve, taking a much needed moment to catch her breath.

Still flying, much much slowly than before, she placed one hand on her thigh, closing her eyes, trusting herself and her Febre to fly straight at a moderate (in Quidditch, “moderate” just meant “slow”) speed. Her shin didn’t hurt at all from the kick, and her thigh’s pain had dulled, though she was sensitive to the bruise she knew her crimson robes were covering. Her mouth was a little dry, she could have used some water, some rain instead of the heated droplets of perspiration that dampened her lips, a mockery of her much needed cure. Her hand lifted to her chest, feeling her heart, her breath, the rapid thud thud hammer hammer hammer! She had always been more of a sprinter than a long distance runner. Under Charlie’s reign she had trained to have more stamina, but she was still naturally and originally formed to go fast for brief moments of perfection. Perfection was hard to maintain. It couldn't be expected to last more than a few seconds, if even that.

‘Breathe. Breathe. Calm. Okay, good. Now, go on.’ Her eyes flung open and she flattened on her broom, some strength, stamina, and speed retained, extracted from the sun and air that continued to push and pull at her. Carey to Russel, and back at Carey again. She saw him approach the goals, openly defying Nic’s shouted orders, and immediately her eyes steadied on Nic. ‘Show him! Show him what happens when they don’t listen!’ A year ago... a beginning of this very game ago she’d not even dared to think he could make the save. But he had been making saves, he’d been amazing this game, and no one had helped him other than Gareth and Topher trying to knock down some Aladrens, while Sam, Renée and Linus fought hard to keep the Quaffle on the other side of the pitch. It was so weird to have this much confidence for Nic, but she really really did. Keepers were sort of the anchors for the team. The last defense. An emblem of strength and fortitude. She didn’t bother holding her breath, crossing her fingers, promising G-d she’d convert. ‘Go, Nic!’ She kept on flying, ready for Nic to make the save, and pass back to her. She promised this’d be the last time he was so bothered.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Watching Faithfully 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Edmond Carey
December 29, 2011 11:33 PM

Edmond Carey
Peripheral
Written by:

Good question by Edmond Carey
Edmond bit his lip as the Bludger hit Marissa, even though that had been the aim he was after, and then he flew after it, intending to hit it at her again. She was still on her broom, and it was his objective to get her off of it and keep the Bludger off of Arnold at the same time.

As he followed, he realized what her objective was a little more slowly than his cousin had, but he got it clearly enough. Not, he thought objectively even as he chided himself for his own stupidity, that it would have made much of a difference if he had seen what she was about earlier; he had been just a little too far behind to prevent Arnold from getting hit again, and knowing that the intent was for him to get hit with that Bludger wouldn’t have changed that by much. Not with everyone moving, and Marissa intent on it.

It had, he thought, been a nice bit of play. He had to admire it, objectively again. It wasn’t very good for his team, but it had been a good bit of play, and now Marissa had time to get out her wand and do something about her injury. Very good. He would have to compliment her on it after the game, shake her hand. If he didn’t succeed in breaking her arm before things got that far for them. He rather imagined it was easier for him to think of something as just a play when he wasn’t the one being injured, and had a very low chance of being the one injured, though he had never asked the others to know for sure.

Right now, though, Arnold was still flying, and that was all that really mattered. That, and keeping Marissa from having any more flashes of inspiration, or improving her situation much. As Arnold flew away – toward the game; as the game approached them; this was going to be lovely - he caught the Bludger and hit it back toward Marissa again, shrugging slightly as he felt a little strain upon hitting the Bludger. He hoped this was going to finish up soon, before this went from a little difficult to truly difficult to outright painful. No more than he deserved, he supposed, but still nothing he would gladly have happen to him if he could help it.

0 Edmond Carey Good question 0 Edmond Carey 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
December 30, 2011 11:02 AM

Linus Macaulay, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Failing Spectacularly by Linus Macaulay, Chaser
He knew he shouldn’t have held onto that triumph of a successful pass. He knew it, and yet instinctively he did it anyway. The sweet moment of victory, that temporary elation in a time when negativity was ripe, that delightful high which just made the disappointment all the more bitter when Aladren, unsurprisingly, ended up with the Quaffle again. At least the reprise came, however brief it was, offering an incentive to continue on, despite the poor quality of the rewards harvested. Linus was determined, if nothing else; the Crotalus team players all had that in their favour. Yet as he turned his broom again – it creaked and groaned with more fervour than at any stage previous to this; that couldn’t be a good sign – Linus had the ingenious of inventing a broomstick that flew in both directions. Admittedly the flier would then have to manoeuvre backwards, but there wouldn’t be any of this maddening circling round every few minutes or so when the Quaffle incessantly changed hands without regard for the increasingly exhausted Chasers.

Then again, maybe they shouldn’t be flying on broomsticks at all. He knew flying carpets were outdated – his research on the topic had told him as much – but surely that would be a more comfortable way to play? Or they could go all polo about it, and play the game on winged horseback. He was fairly sure such things existed in the wizarding world. The creatures could do most of the hard work, and accurately avoid collisions, and would be more comfortable than a broomstick, providing the right cushioning charms were in place. Playing on horseback would probably have the advantage of out-lawing Bludgers, too – animal cruelty prevention groups existed in every culture, he was positive of it – and Linus certainly wasn’t adverse to that possibility.

Regardless, for the time being he was playing on a broomstick, no matter how much his hands, thighs, and other unmentionable regions were beginning to protest, let alone the broom itself. This time, by the time Linus had turned his broom around to face the other way, the Quaffle was still heading down the pitch in that direction. While this did, at least, mean he didn’t have to immediately circle again and look like the biggest idiot since that fellow who tried to teach trolls ballet, it also meant that the Quaffle was heading back into Nic’s territory, after he’d specifically requested that didn’t happen again.

Mentally reiterating the appropriateness of the term ‘Chaser’, Linus took off in pursuit once more, trailing after the other players down the pitch as his steed genuinely refused to reach its earlier pace. Its rider could empathize; he, too, was exhausted, but the game wasn’t won yet. In fact Crotalus was still down by ten points, and scoring that equalizer might give his team the boost they needed to keep playing until the Seekers got their act together and did something productive with that Snitch. If only he could encourage his broom to go faster, then maybe he could make an interception, and prevent the Quaffle from getting too near, after all. Unfortunately, its performance was dropping by the minute, and he wasn’t expecting it to suddenly repair itself and behave, no matter how convenient that would be.

Too far behind the other players to do anything but watch, Linus witnessed the Quaffle changing hands back and forth between blue Chasers. To his immense surprise, he seemed to be gaining momentum, by leaning this way and that on his broom, adjusting his weight distribution experimentally while he flew to encourage maximum acceleration. As bad luck would have it, the Quaffle was already within scoring distance from Nic before Linus could even contemplate doing something about it. As if zooming in on a recording, he watched with increasingly clarity through reduced distance as the leather ball left the hands of the most annoying Aladren Chaser, and soared towards the hoops that had thus far been reasonably well protected by Crotalus’ Keeper. Don’t let it go in he silently begged any and all powers who might listen and respond in his favour. Let Nic make another save. Don’t let his reputation go back to what it was before.

Linus wasn’t keen to take his eyes off the Quaffle, even for an instant, so he could accurately track its progress and line himself up accordingly to help get the ball back out of there, whatever the outcome. Yet as he made to slow his broom, he realised with horror that it wasn’t slowing at all. He tried to turn it, instead, no longer focussed on the goal area, but glancing down at his own hands as they tugged, fruitlessly, on the handle of his unresponsive broomstick.

“Oh no,” he muttered, as he looked up, the understanding that his broomstick wasn’t going to stop dawning to create a wave of dread. He wasn’t close enough to collide with the goalposts, thankfully – he imagined that would be painful – but there were other players on the pitch, and Linus was powerless to avoid them. “Look out!” he shouted instead, sure he was about to hit someone any second. He leaned over on his broom in case it helped, but the collision was surely unavoidable. He closed his eyes and braced himself for impact, no longer concerned whether or not the Quaffle had been halted in its goal-wards trajectory, but concerned merely with his own life. If he became unseated from his broomstick, then that was a long way to fall. He wondered whether his life would flash before his eyes, but he had no intentions of opening them to find out. Then there was the matter of the immediate damage he might inflict on himself, not to mention what the other players might do to him if he inadvertently landed them in the Hospital Wing, too. Gulp.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Failing Spectacularly 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Nic Sawyer, Keeper
December 30, 2011 3:31 PM

Nic Sawyer, Keeper
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 15

Blast it, Linus! by Nic Sawyer, Keeper
Nic watched the Quaffle and its attendant crowd of Chasers fly away. The only way he knew which team had it at any given moment was the direction the group of players was facing. If he could see most of their backs and the broom tails, all was good and Crotalus had it. If he could see faces (his eyesight wasn't good enough to be able to distinguish who the faces belonged to at this distance, but he could recognize if it was a face or the back of a head), things were looking down and Aladren had it. There was one mystifying moment when a blue robed facial blur (who he thought might be the Seeker Carey since he hadn't previously been a part of the Chaser crowd) waved in his general direction but Nic decided he'd imagined that and dismissed it. The figure was soon swallowed by a crowed of faced Chasers anyway, dispelling the illusion and focusing him back on the game. That time they turned around again, and he was pretty sure there was another failed attempt by Crotalus to score. Nic was mildly bitter that it seemed the new Aladren keeper was already doing better than him. He had a 100% success rate for his very first game, and that was at least three tries on him now.

Given how the rest of the game was going, he wasn't too suprised when the crowd of Chasers (and presumably the Quaffle) started back toward him again, getting close enough for Nic to make out faces again for a while, he even spotted the Quaffle briefly as it rebounded off Renee's foot, but then it went back the other way some more. Unfortunately, that didn't last as long as he would have liked and not much later he caught sight of the Quaffle again passing between Aladrens as they moved into scoring range. The Carey Chaser made a good effort, throwing hard and fast. Nic had to hustle for it, but he thought he'd get enough fingers there in time to deflect.

He was pushing his broom, and extending his long arms as far as they went, his eyes and focus all for the quaffle speeding dangerously toward the side hoop.

"Look out!" Linus's voice shouted, and Nic recoiled, rolling aside to get out of the way of what had to be Edmond's final attempt to remove Nic's head from his shoulders before he graduated. Nic had already made a solemn vow to himself that if it ever camed down to a goal being scored or a bludger striking him, the team could suck it and he'd let the goal go through. The last time he'd tried taking one for the team, the Carey Beater had missed decapitating him by mere inches and Nic's collarbone still ached during bad weather. This time . . . this time Edmond Carey was clear on the far side of the pitch, messing with Marissa. The Quaffle flew through its hoop as he realized this. He didn't bother to go see what Linus was actually blathering about, prioritizing instead retrieving the Quaffle before Aladren attempted a two-fer.

He caught hold of it and headed back up in front of the goals. He noticed then what Linus had been yelling about and gave him a few seconds to try to sort out his broom before throwing the ball back into play, passing it toward one of the red-clad chasers who hadn't just demonstrated that their broom was opting not to obey instructions.

1 Nic Sawyer, Keeper Blast it, Linus! 165 Nic Sawyer, Keeper 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce
December 30, 2011 3:32 PM

Coach Amelia Pierce
Former Staff
Subject: Quidditch Coach
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 38

Aladren scores! 20-0 (nm) by Coach Amelia Pierce

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Aladren scores! 20-0 (nm) 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce
December 30, 2011 4:17 PM

Coach Amelia Pierce
Former Staff
Subject: Quidditch Coach
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 38

Recenter # 3 by Coach Amelia Pierce
We start off on a beautiful sunny day with the sun blindingly bright in the East. It's a little cool, but not freezing cold. Captains speak and shake hands and the game is on:

-Renee gets the ball off the whistle, heads for David, and passes
-Kitty intercepts, dodges bludgers, heads back toward Nic, and passes to Russell
-Russell catches and passes back to Kitty
-Gareth shoots another bludger
-Edmond intercepts and hits at Sam
-Sam dodges and misses his chance to intercept
-Kitty catches and passes back to Arthur
-Arthur gets within scoring distance and passes to Russell
-Russell tries to score
-Preston tries to hit a Crotalus Chaser
-Topher stops him
-Nic saves! He tries to pass to Sam
-Kitty intercepts and tries to score again
-Sam is mad
-Aladren 10 - Crotalus 0!
-Nic passes to Sam
-Sam passes to Linus
-Linus attempts to pass, but Russell gets in the way and takes it back the other way
-Russell passes to Arthur despite Renee's attempt to intercept
-Arthur attempts to score
-Nic stops it and passes to Renee
-Renee passes to Linus
-Linus passes back to Renee
-Renee attempts to score
-Kitty gets confused and stops it with her head
-David is also confused
-Russell recovers the ball and brings it away from the danger zone and passes
-Renee intercepts and passes
-Arthur intercepts Renee's pass and tries to pass
-Edmond momentarily leaves the Seeker game to throw a bludger into the mix
-It hits Linus's broom, causing pretty bad damage, but it remains flyable so Coach doesn't interfere
-Arthur's pass had hit Linus as he spun out of control, but Kitty recovers it, passes to Arthur
-Arthur passes back to Kitty
-Kitty fakes an attempt to score but passes
-Renee intercepts but gets hit in the thigh by a bludger from Preston, she holds onto the ball though and tries to drop pass to Sam
-Arthur intercepts and passes
-Sam tries to intercept with limited success, managing only to knock it out of play
-Russell recovers the ball and brings it into the danger zone, attempting to score
-Linus has some trouble with his broom but tries to get in position for a clear pass from Nic
-Nic catches it and throws it toward a Crotalus Chaser
-Sam takes Nic's 'get off my property' to heart and gets off Nic's property
-Preston tries to make Crotalus lives difficult
-Linus dodges Preston's bludger and catches Sam's pass
-Arthur intercepts Linus's pass
-Renee intercepts Arthur's
-Russell intercepts Renee's
-Linus intercepts Russell's and then actually completes a pass to Renee
-Arthur intercepts Renee's
-Topher tries to make Aladren lives difficult
-Arthur takes a hit on the leg
-Renee intercepts Arthur's pass and makes a successful one to Sam. Renee finds God.
-Sam tries to score
-David gets to block for the first time this game and does so
-Arthur catches David's pass and makes one of his own to Russell after a long fast run
-Russell decides he should also take a long fast run but isn't as successful in the whole passing thing because Renee somehow manages to kick the ball
-Linus recovers it (confirming Renee's devotion to a higher power) and passes to Sam
-Arthur intercepts Sam's pass and makes one to Russell
-Russell makes one back to Arthur
-Arthur tries to score
-Renee cheers on Nic
-Linus loses control of his broom and shouts "Look out!"
-Nic reacts to Linus's shout and misses the save
-Aladren scores, 20-0!

Meanwhile the Seekers are having an interesting time of it, too.
-Marissa tries to enjoy herself
-Arnold cuts her off
-Marissa tries a Wronski Feint
-Gareth takes the opportunity to hit a bludger at Arnold
-Arnold tries to shake it but takes a solid hit to his leg
-Gareth tries to repeat the maneuver
-Edmond is having none of that and redirects to Marissa
-Marissa takes a glancing blow to her shoulder which hurts but not as much as Arnold's leg
-Arnold tries to shake off the pain and get back into the game
-Edmond assists by hitting another bludger at Marissa
-Marissa evades and thinks she sees something shiny. She goes for it.
-Arnold follows, keeping close
-Gareth stalks after them, not having a clear shot at Arnold, but eager to take one when he does
-Marissa realizes her shiny thing was a spectator's watch
-She tries to get away from Arnold so Gareth could have a shot
-Arnold notices Edmond's back and tries to get away from Marissa
-Edmond takes a shot, with full power
-Gareth blocks, but it hurts
-Edmond goes for take two
-Arnold spots gold among the Chasers and dives in
-Marissa takes take two on her hip and then spots it coming back
-She follows Arnold with the bludger in hot pursuit and tries to pawn it off on him
-Arnold gets hit on the left arm and thinks he spots the snitch and dives evasively for it
-Edmond gets in and hits the bludger at Marissa again

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Recenter # 3 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 30, 2011 4:26 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

How about we all just chip in to find the snitch? by Renée Errant {Chaser}
Her mind refused to register this atrocity. Linus just... no, she refused to focus on it. The Quaffle soaring past... into... through... no. She summoned up false enthusiasm and cheer, she completely ignored the fact that the score was now... she completely ignored the score. Renée’s broom was already turned and pointed toward Aladren Goals when Nic passed, the Quaffle shooting out like a cannon and Renée kept pace directly beneath it before jumping invisible levels of air, her left arm shooting straight, catching it against the palm of her hand. It bumped off slightly but she grabbed it again with both hands, brought it against her chest and continued on, speed increasing as she rose above most of the other players. In the distance she could see the tall metal posts now beneath her. Both mind and body felt a little more relaxed, images of tall city buildings, flying skyscrapers filtering through her mind instead of the same repetitive Aladren faces.

Indecision flickered in her mind, catching sight of the seekers who seemed to be flying with a little more focused direction. ‘They might end the game soon... we should at least get one goal before they do.’ They needed at least three goals for her to feel good about this situation, but as she was ignoring the current score, she was also ignoring the fact that one goal would no longer tie Crotalus to Aladren. ‘One goal. At least one. Just one.’ She wasn’t sure if she should be continuing the newly established pattern of speeding across the field, holding onto the Quaffle as long as possible, in order to safeguard against Aladren interception. It made a little sense in theory, and gave partial results in practice. Swerving around an opponent, ducking a bludger, not yet approaching the midpoint line, Renée decided to follow Charlie’s training and resume quick, well controlled passes, hoping Sam would approve of that strategy. Fearing interception wasn’t a compelling enough reason to not stick with what they knew, and what they knew they had always been good at.

She felt a little hurried (the thought of either seeker catching the snitch before Crotalus scored was unbearable) but breathed through her quick flight, raising herself on her broom and preparing to pass at her teammate nearby her. ‘Whoops.’ She spied an Aladren at the ready, but Renée knew she needed to pass right then. She pulled her body back hard, tilting a little backwards, to slow down her speed, nearly stopping in the air, trying to have the Aladren Chaser on her tail simply fly on past. ‘One breath... two...’ She leaned forward and shot off again, palming the Quaffle, pulling up close to her teammate and made a straight diagonal pass, aiming just ahead of them so they’d fly right toward it. She could almost see the ruler edge as the Quaffle flew straight.

Passing quickly, deftly, back and forth, back and forth, playing keep away with the Aladrens, bringing the Quaffle back up to enemy territory, opposing untouched goals. Even with the consistency of their failures, of interference, a bubble of excitement would continue to grow every time Crotalus found another chance to try to score, every time the Quaffle landed in their possession. ‘Too passive.’ Every time they seized the Quaffle, bringing it into their protective possession. She felt her nostrils slightly flare, her face heating up (heated), her heart beating rapidly (bursting out of her chest), her breath quickening (breathless). She wanted to score. There was no greater feeling. It beat even winning. She wanted to see one of them take the shot, make the shot, goal! ‘A few passes, expect a few more interceptions, and then we’re there. One last time maybe. Goal! Goal! Goal!’

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} How about we all just chip in to find the snitch? 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 30, 2011 9:52 PM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

Oh, come on. This is fun! by Arthur Carey, Chaser
Arthur became aware of someone shouting just after he shot, and wrenched himself to the side, out of the way, just in time as Mr. Macaulay, his broom apparently deciding to give up the ghost at long last after it had been hit some time ago when Edmond decided to make a foray into the main game, seemed to lose control of his broom and went sailing through.

Idiot, he thought briefly, but he almost felt some sympathy. Almost. Flashing back to his handful of memories of being four years old and having his toy broomstick go mad on him and send him, at a speed the thing should not have even been capable of, into stone, so his left arm had never really been right since, was unpleasant, and he would feel empathy for Mr. Macaulay if he went through something similar, especially since he was old enough to remember it in perfect detail later if the head trauma wasn’t too bad, but…honestly, shouldn’t he have known better? Arthur, at least, had not flown a broom when he was fully aware it was damaged. At least not damaged by Edmond. That was all but asking for problems.

At the moment, however, he was not going to criticize Mr. Macaulay too harshly. For one thing, his error in judgment was more excusable than usual when it was Aladren versus Crotalus, and for another, it had just handed Aladren their second goal, since Mr. Sawyer had instinctively run for his life and so spared them just a bit more trouble. Crotalus managed to get the Quaffle back – Arthur had been considering another immediate interference, just to annoy them, but generally didn’t think it was the best idea and was now too far out of the way, anyway – so retrieving it again was going to be trouble again, but it didn’t come with nearly the frustration and difficulty that another attempt at the goals would have. Those were harder-won, and less likely to be successful, and overall he would rather have a success here at the cost of an interception or two.

Though, if he could have his cake and eat it, too, and have a number of goals and all the interceptions that were about to play out go his way, well, he wouldn’t object. Arthur had determined early in life that believing in fairness just made people miserable, since it wasn’t real, and while he couldn’t help it sometimes in normal life, he had an easier time accepting there was no such thing as fair and no reason to play that way except as far as was necessary to stay out of trouble while he was on the Quidditch Pitch. They were not here to be good sports, they were not here to have fun, they were all here to win, and that was all, for the moment, he was interested in. A liberating feeling, when usually his head was running over with interests, flowing from one to the next through associations, just to be interested, mainly, in one thing, with any minor secondary interests all being directly associated with it and things that even went along very well with it.

He followed Miss Errant as she moved back toward David, playing this out once more, and when she passed, he came down from above to snatch it out of the air, pulling back up sharply to avoid hitting anyone. He had to admit, he did enjoy doing that; the risk of it was a thrill, the audacity another, the stealing the ball was more than a little gratifying, and then there was just the concentration involved in very quickly mentally planning it and then the satisfaction of having it work out for him. He seemed to have been painted in as the family scholar, always to wear dark suits which were not so good as those of his brothers and spend his time with his head bent over a book and his knee bent to just about everyone, but it was pleasant, at times, to demonstrate skill at something physical, to do something physical and see for himself that he had skill in it. Especially given the arm, which was beginning to have notable warning prickles of pain he was ignoring because he didn’t have any other option.

Once he was high enough to do so, he turned and began to fly back toward the Crotalus goals, enjoying too the feel of the air on his face. He supposed he could have crossed the rest of the ground himself again, but it might throw the Crotali, who’d expect Aladren’s long runners to do that, off, and he’d just had a goal by the skin of his teeth. If the Crotali intercepted it, it was no matter; they’d just retrieve it again and then be on their way, back to the goals. A bit of him knew, vaguely, that it was irrational, but he had suddenly been seized with the feeling that this game had suddenly become easy, and that it was going to stay that way, and he was feeling a little giddy with it. The bit of him which knew this was irrational was shrieking about this, but he wasn’t overly aware of it. Just that he was oddly sure that nothing else was going to be able to frustrate him, that things were now to go smoothly.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser Oh, come on. This is fun! 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 30, 2011 10:13 PM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

Define 'fun.' by Sam Bauer, Chaser
Whatever slights he might have wanted to make about their motives, morality, personalities, personal habits, or anything else, Sam didn’t think he could say much, at this point, about Aladren’s skills. The nerds had gotten their revenge; it would take years of consistent, abject failure before anyone would ever claim that the boys in blue couldn’t play Quidditch ever again.

If that could have just been enough for them, things would have been great. But they wanted to have it all, and the thing was, for the past few years, they’d had it. Which was just…well, if they’d earned it, they’d earned it, but it was frustrating, and never moreso than when there they went and scored again. And, to add insult to injury, it was because Linus’ broom went psycho and distracted Nic.

Great. Really great. And then, though Renée got the ball back and went with it, Arthur Carey got it back just as quickly, and then didn’t even bother to make his own run all the way back to where he’d come from.

There was, Sam rather suspected, an insult intended in there. But he wasn’t going to be too picky, not this late in the game. He was just going to throw caution to the winds and nip in there, without much more room than Arthur’d had just now, and steal that ball and carry it down the Pitch again. And quickly.

He went a little further than Reneee had, and honestly a little further than he wanted to, since he wasn’t about to try anything when he could see an Aladren as clearly as he could when he first decided to pass. The Aladren he could see was, he knew very well, just a proxy for the two he could not, and those two would still be there when the one he could see was out of sight, but still, he didn’t see any reason to make it easy for them. Finally, though, if still away from the dividing line, he found it prudent to raise his head far enough to spot another red robe – hopefully, either not Linus or Linus after some quick tune-ups or a swap-out from the broom shed or something – and make the pass, hopefully this time for keeps. It would be nice to at least get in two honest, not-meddled-with-by-Aladren-Chasers, attempts on the Aladren goals.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser Define 'fun.' 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
December 30, 2011 10:37 PM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

And here we go again by Arnold Carey, Seeker
Arnold was sure he had no more than blinked, one little blink, but that turned out to be enough. Before he knew what was happening, the Snitch was gone, and he had no idea where it had gone.

He looked around for it, not really thinking anything, but having a strong feeling of something like so, now what?. He shook his head, trying to rid it of that, so he could think and see the thing and go after it. From the sounds of it, the team had just scored again, things were going well, and it would be a good time to end it. Everyone was tired now; even he was, a little, though he thought he would try to deny it if he was asked. He didn’t like that. Father and Arthur often looked tired – Father, nearly always – and Anthony looked tired quite a bit, but Arnold was the one who had nothing serious in life and so didn’t get tired, just danced from one crazy stunt to the next, amusing and exasperating and distracting everybody as he went.

He shook his head again. He wasn’t tired. Nah. He could keep playing this all day, if he had to. It was no big deal. He didn’t know why he was even bothering to think of anything else; there wasn’t time for that, and he didn’t even really have the attention span to think of three things at once, and all his mind had to be on finding the Snitch, outmaneuvering the Crotali who’d try to impede his progress in doing that, and then, finally, on the certainty that Aladren was going to win.

He flew on, looking all around him, seeking the Snitch. It had to be here somewhere, and he was going to find it, and soon. Then it would be over, and whether he’d enjoyed this or not, whatever he thought about it, he would be happy to have won, and they’d all be able to celebrate that. All the Bludgers and back and forth and difficulties they might have had would be completely forgotten within fifteen minutes, forty at the most, once the medic got them all put back together. Then they’d all have a very good party, and the whole family would write to say he’d done very well, and in Aladren, at least, he would have no faults for a day or two.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker And here we go again 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 30, 2011 10:50 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

Crotalus winning. by Renée Errant {Chaser}
‘Stay positive. Stay positive. Stay positive.’ Renée’s fists tightened around the broom, her pass intercepted, her teeth now on edge. ‘Stay positive. Stay positive. Stay positive.’ She began to turn around again, chase after the Quaffle again, try to intercept again (she hated that word now, it settled in a fury in her mind, stewing in her brain cells that were overheating, she was guessing, because her forehead was burning, her entire head caught on fire) when Sam suddenly interrupted Carey’s pass. ‘Good. Good. Back again.’

She hadn’t gone far after the ball when Sam came flying back. She kept a little head of him as they flew, making sure she was free, dipping lower whenever she sensed Aladrens, pretty confident that Sam would be forced to pass to her since Linus was... she wasn’t going to think about what Linus was. That would stop the flow of enforced positivity that she was keeping up. ‘One goal. Just one. Then another, perhaps. Then another.’ She just wanted to at least get another shot of the goals.

Sam pushed them past the midpoint line. They kept on flying, intruding further on Aladren space. Renée kept turning her body to see him, wait for a signal that he’d pass. ‘I’m free... I’m free... okay!’ He threw the Quaffle and she caught it, rising a little higher in the air, arm cradling over it, before she turned on her broom and shot off with greater speed, rising wind pushing back against her robes, her hair, cooling some of the heat. She tucked the Quaffle in the crook of her arm, determination and equal parts frustration battling with weakening positivity. She wanted to keep going for the goals, to just shoot at the Keeper, but from this distance he would see her coming, it would be harder to trick him, and she couldn’t risk wasting another chance of the goals. ‘Strategy. We need strategy.’

Her left arm keeping the Quaffle tucked safe against her body, her right hand raised, all five fingers lifted, slowly letting all but the thumb fall down. She wasn’t really expecting Linus to be able to do... anything useful, but if he could, that would be awesome. ‘This would be a perfect time to have a reserve replace him.’ Isn’t that what the reserves were there for? So that when a player lost the ability of flight, they’d replace him? She continued to shoot forward toward the goals, hoping Sam (or Linus) would get her upcoming pass. The signal only meant that she’d shoot right past the hoops, turn to throw to her teammate, giving him the option of taking the shot, or if he wasn’t in a good position he could throw right back to her circling around the hoops and so she could take the shot.

She continued to fly, push all the way toward Aladren goals. The Keeper doubtless saw her coming, her eyes slid over the metal rings they’d had too few chances to attack. Every inch of her body lit up, screaming for her to attack now, but she’d learned it was bad strategy. Not when she was coming from a fair distance away. Still, she indulged in the fantasy of shooting, tensed on her broom as if she was in mid-pounce. If her own body believed, maybe Wilkes would too. Her arm raised, she directed her gaze toward the left goal hoop and then... she turned suddenly, twisting in her seated position to see her teammate. She pulled back her arm and threw, letting the Quaffle fly in a slight arc toward him. A rush of wind, she stripped right past the right metal goal hoop, immediately jutting to the side, curving around all three stands at high speed to either; watch Sam (or Linus) catch and then attempt a goal, be there to catch a pass and then attempt to score on the nearby left hoop, or watch as an Aladren steal away with the Quaffle and race after him.

Either way she’d have something to do, something to focus on, keep herself oriented toward a goal while the seekers did... whatever they were doing.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Crotalus winning. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
December 30, 2011 11:44 PM

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 17

It's the never-ending Ferris wheel of doom. by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Marissa had indulged herself with the thought that Arnold and Edmond might both give her a moment of peace, if only because they were both otherwise occupied with the Bludger. She got over that delusion very quickly. Before she knew it, Arnold was off looking for something, and she was dodging a Bludger, again.

As she flew away, she found herself hoping that it flew straight into one of the Aladren Chasers. Maybe it was bad luck and she’d pay for it in pain in a minute or two, but right now, she just wished harm on that team. She was hurting, her team was being trounced, and she knew, as she’d sensed when other people were in her shoes but fully understood now that it was her honor being dragged through the mud for all of Sonora, most of which she imagined was on Crotalus’ side by now, to see, the pain of that, too. It was not something she had ever wanted to put up with, if it was actually worse than just getting beaten by some first year, but here it was, bright and shiny for her.

Shiny. Like a Snitch. Oh, how she’d like to see a Snitch. It wouldn’t matter at all what had happened before or even what else happened in that moment if she could just catch the Snitch. Sooner or later, they might even forget Aladren managing to score twice when Crotalus had only once managed to get a clear shot at Aladren’s goals. Merlin, she wasn’t a Chaser, but she knew that was embarrassing.

Embarrassing didn’t matter much to her right now, though. Just catching the Snitch and avoiding more Bludgers. The best thing she could think to do was go back to where it would be hard for her to be hit without the Aladrens risking their precious Arnold, and then hope she saw the Snitch in such a way that she could slip away and he not realize what was going on until it was too late for him to engage her in a neck-to-neck race. A slim enough hope, maybe just a stalling measure, but it was something. She flew directly toward Arnold, this time, she thought, without a Bludger directly on her, and began to shadow him, staying as close as she could without risking a collision. Right now, she was pretty sure that she would fall.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker It's the never-ending Ferris wheel of doom. 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
December 31, 2011 12:14 AM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

But not of doomy doom? by Arnold Carey, Seeker
Arnold wasn’t sure which sense picked it up – he had a notion it was hearing, but he wasn’t sure – but he noticed something coming his way, and soon noticed it was Marissa. She had come back to play, it seemed. They were going to be friends again, presumably so both of their Beaters would leave them alone.

Well, he couldn’t say he objected to that too much, at least for a few minutes. He wasn’t tired or anything, but he didn’t think there was anything wrong with admitting that he’d gotten about as much adrenaline as he thought he was going to get from being hit by Bludgers, at least today. Maybe, by the final, things would be more normal and it wouldn’t bother him this much – he was sure he never remembered it bothering him so much before, and he was sure that he would remember; he was at least ninety percent sure he had never taken a direct blow to the head in a game at Sonora – but today, he was kind of tired of it, at least for a few minutes.

“Hey,” he called to her. “Decide you couldn’t find it on your own?”

That, there – that was normal. He felt a little more cheerful doing it, to tell the truth, as though being carefree about it all were making him actually okay with it, not kind of worried, with only one good arm and one leg so it might cause him problems if he had to make a sudden and very steep dive, or pull off any particularly fancy moves, really. Whatever worked, though, he guessed, was the way to go.

Besides, it was something to do. The Snitch was nowhere near here, and her being distracted or annoyed or distracted by annoyance might be what meant he won the game, in the end. He thought they were about as close to even as they had ever gotten before, in three years of this. So, with the Beaters largely out of it for now….

On a whim, he angled his broom down a little, so he fell lower in the air, and then moved to the other side of her before coming back up, just in case the Crotalus Beaters thought that he was presenting himself as a target. Great if one of them had just taken a shot and now couldn’t call it back, but okay if they didn’t, just so long as they didn’t. He had looked, first, and he didn’t think he saw one right this second on this side, just waiting for him to do that, and if one appeared, he guessed he could just move back, or go up, or something. Her guardian had seemed to take the last hit pretty hard, so he wasn’t counting on getting hit again, but Topher might come back. Anything was possible in this game. As the Seeker, he often got a bird’s-eye view of what was going on, and it was often not expected.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker But not of doomy doom? 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce
December 31, 2011 12:24 AM

Coach Amelia Pierce
Former Staff
Subject: Quidditch Coach
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 38

A Christmas gift for Linus by Coach Amelia Pierce
The game was turning out every bit as exciting as Amelia had hoped for by pitting these two teams up against each other for the season's first game. The chasers were moving back and forth like a tennis match, the bludgers were flying and taking names, and the seekers were dueling it out. The sun was still bright but a light cloud cover had moved in as the game progressed and it wasn't quite as blinding as it had been at first. In fact, the game was shaping up to be nigh on about perfect for the spectators, in all but one respect.

Aladren was winning.

Oh, a quarter of the student population considered this a good thing, but by the volume of the cheers and jeers, most of the audience seemed to be on Crotalus's side. No doubt Teppenpaw and Pecari were hoping to see the undefeated team go down to avoid facing Arnold the Unbeaten and Edmond the Large in the final. She imagined there was no small amount of bitterness that Fawcett was hogging the Quidditch Cup a little too often playing into the division of House support as well.

As Quidditch Coach, Amelia would kind of like to host it in her office for a year herself.

Unfortunately, things were not looking well for Crotalus. Aladren had scored twice now while Crotalus hadn't at all. Marissa looked at least as ragged as Arnold did, and Edmond wasn't letting up on her.

And then there was Linus.

Normally, Amelia adopted a strict policy of laissez-faire refereeing, especially when Crotalus was playing. She stayed out of the way as much as she could as long as nobody was in serious danger. Linus technically wasn't in danger. He was still on his broom and the broom still flew. Sort of. It wasn't crashing to the ground at any rate.

It was within both Linus and Marissa's right to call in a reserve but the seeker seemed otherwise occupied and Linus seemed determined to fight this through.

Fortunately, his near collision with several other players near the Crotalus goals gave her an opportunity to take pity on the poor kid. That constituted a risk to other players of both teams. She summoned one of the school broom from a pile she had stacked near the broom closet for easy access, and flew over to the trouble flier.

"Switch brooms," she instructed as Renee flew off with the Quaffle, holding the undamaged school broom out to him. "You're endangering the health and safety of yourself and others on that deathtrap."

1 Coach Amelia Pierce A Christmas gift for Linus 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Edmond Carey, Beater
December 31, 2011 12:55 AM

Edmond Carey, Beater
Peripheral
Written by:

Both sound pretty grim to me by Edmond Carey, Beater
Edmond saw that his shot had missed this time. So Marissa was back on her feet, then - in a manner of speaking - or at least had some luck today. And it hadn’t been the clearest shot he’d ever taken; he had been sure there was at least some chance it would miss.

Just as now, looking at the state of the game, he thought there was a real chance that Aladren could lose. On the surface of it, things were going quite well, but Arnold was as battered as Marissa, and no one on the Crotalus team seemed to be giving up. And as people got more and more extravagant in their play, itself a manifestation of their desperation…well, it would make a very good show for any members of the audience who were not thoroughly tired of sitting when that was a malady that seemed to affect few when it came to Quidditch, he couldn’t deny that any more than he could deny that he was not very handsome, but it could mean things fell apart very quickly and with very little warning for one team or the other, and no chance to do anything about it.

Better for him, for them all, if it was not his team, not least because he really had no idea how Arnold would react to losing. He had never seen the elder of the twins appear to be very serious about anything except perhaps, at odd moments, the family, but he had to take the game at least somewhat seriously in order to justify putting himself through what he did every time they played Crotalus, and almost every time they played at all. And he had never lost, especially not in front of this many people. Maybe he would take it well, but maybe he would…not. So better if they won.

Right now, though, there was not much Edmond could do to help with that, at least not as far as the Seekers went. Marissa had caught up to Arnold, and while the way Arnold was flitting about was helpful in one way, as it made him a harder target for the Crotalus Beaters, it also made Marissa a harder target for Edmond. Perhaps he should move on, and enter the main game for a bit, give Preston a break there; he was beginning to feel wrong about repeatedly attacking the same girl over and over again anyway. That was a silly emotion to let come in when it came to Quidditch, but he couldn’t help it. At some point, it began to feel almost…personal, and while he knew it was anything but, what might everyone, whom he still had to spend half a year with, make of it?

He decided to watch for a moment longer before he came to a conclusion about anything. If things stayed as they were, perhaps he would do nothing, or move on. He would have to see first, to make sure that he was making the best call for Aladren.

0 Edmond Carey, Beater Both sound pretty grim to me 0 Edmond Carey, Beater 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser
December 31, 2011 1:20 AM

Arthur Carey, Chaser
Peripheral
Written by:

No, no, you've got it all backwards. by Arthur Carey, Chaser
The feeling of ease didn’t go away when Mr. Bauer did, predictably enough, though it did show a little more spirit than he usually displayed, intercept, but Arthur did frown slightly as he turned his broom to follow the older student. The fact that he did not expect it to last through another play did not change the fact that he didn’t really like having his plays interrupted any more than the fact that he knew it was going to happen from time to time did.

Still, it was nothing to get upset about. Nothing was, at this point. They had a strong lead, they could say they performed well no matter what else happened, and they had the better Seeker and better Beaters of the two teams. Those things meant that whatever happened was not likely to be a defeat for them, and if it was, it would be on a matter of pure chance, not on a matter of skill. That was, actually, one reason why he wondered if perhaps they should not do away with or at least dramatically reduce the points of the Snitch altogether, if not just replace the Snitch itself with an hourglass so the games only went, in the event that a goal was made, so long. It was against tradition, and he did like tradition usually, but it seemed to him to be the most rational thing.

No one, however, had ever asked for his opinion, and he supposed there must be some kind of merit to the current system, because otherwise, surely someone would have been intelligent enough to fix it by now. Arthur tended to respect his elders out of practicality and because they knew more than he did about some, if fewer every year, things instead of because of their innate intelligence, but there had been people in history and were even people alive he would freely admit were far smarter than he, so he did not think he stood much of a chance of ever being the person who changed the rules of this game. Especially considering the backlash that seemed to happen, historically, whenever someone did change some minor little rule; removing the Snitch might provoke riots in some places. It was a pity, but people were often very…strange. It was things like reading about the history of Quidditch which occasionally made him question his interest in understanding other people at all.

He flew after the Crotali, anyway, looking for their next move and planning his, both in general terms and in terms of what he thought they would do. That was always an inexact science at best, completely unreliable at worst, but it was something to do until he saw what they would do, and it was good to have plans in the back of his mind, accommodating for multiple possible scenarios. There were, after all, usually only so many ways these things could go.

At one point, he thought Mr. Bauer was going to pass, but something spooked him, so he moved on, and Arthur fell back slightly, waiting to see what would happen. He had to pass it sooner or later, or else be hit by a Bludger; that had happened, once, that someone had gone all the way from one end to another, but he doubted it would again. Very bizarre things tended to only work once, maybe twice. People tended to catch on quickly and accommodate for the strange things. Then it didn’t work anymore, or didn’t work as well as it had.

When it finally did move across, Arthur went for it – and he missed. And then, she had it again, and she went on too far. Curse it. She was going to make another attempt on the goals. Perhaps Mr. Wilkes would prove adequate – but Arthur still wasn’t sure of him. Really, he was sure of no one but himself and his brother, somewhat of Russell, just less than he was sure of Edmond in his role as a protector who just happened to come from what was historically, even to very recent history, the most antagonistic and unstable branch the family had, but that was all.

He watched her anyway, though, watching just in case she passed and gave him a chance again, and when she did, he didn’t think. If he had, he would have not been sure it happened and missed it, but he didn't. He just went forward, speeding, and got the Quaffle away from the pass. Then he turned and flew back, going very fast again even if it did make him dizzy. That would pass in a moment, and then, at least, they would hopefully be far enough away for her not to do anything he especially did not like again. Or even threaten to. He guessed he was going to have to think a little strategically in all of this, even now, after all.

Once he felt he was safe enough, he passed, short and direct, and didn’t so much hope for it to go a bit better this time as he went forward in the complete expectation that it would. They had this, he told himself. There was no need to become excited. It was a pleasant walk in the park from now on. Nothing else could happen. Though at this point, he would really prefer if Arnold and Edmond could arrange for it to be a short walk. Even a pleasant time outside could get tiresome after a while, and somehow always one ant got through the spells and into the sugar and led all the others.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser No, no, you've got it all backwards. 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Aladren
December 31, 2011 1:36 AM

Russell Layne, Aladren
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 13

Trust us, we're Aladrens. by Russell Layne, Aladren
It was going to be Arthur, then, who got to take the shot. Which meant Russell could, at least mentally, almost take a moment off. It was welcome; when he wasn’t right in the thick of the action, and so Quidditch crazy, he was beginning to notice that this had been going on for a while, and that he had therefore spent a while in which he was mostly engaged in intense physical activity since he ate breakfast, and slept, and he knew he was going to have to have a shower before he attempted to do either of those things again once the game finally ended. Not officially, of course, but he knew it would bother him if he didn’t, so that was something else, and something that would make sleeping seem like an even more attractive prospect once the game was well and truly over and he crashed from the high of it all.

It was a good thing, he thought, that none of them had girlfriends, were, he thought, kinda still too young to even worry about that or for it to be seen as unusual. If what he’d gathered from reading papers and books and seeing the Chimeras play a few times was anything to go by, those usually acted as one more thing between victorious players and food, sleep, and a bath, and while he guessed he might eventually think about it differently, since most everyone got married eventually and that implied having decided (unless one was like Preston and the twins in social status, but that was weird, and the rest of the world got on fine without all that) dating was both a good and a feasible idea at some point, right now girls were sort of interesting, but not that interesting after a match.

Well, he thought, anyway. He would have to see what Arnold and Preston thought about it after the game, since they had…well, friends who were girls, anyway, he didn’t know if there was anything to it besides that and it had never really even occurred to him to ask before. None of his business; for all he knew, they’d been engaged since they were two or something. But it might be obvious if they managed to win now….

He was jerked out of this mental tangent by the disaster with Linus’ broom, and so got the full energizing benefits of the score, however it had come about. He liked to think that Arthur would have made that one anyway, and it wasn’t like anyone could really prove otherwise. Immediately, the ball came back into play, and the back and forth was back on, with it going first to Renée, then to Arthur, then to Sam Bauer, back to Renée, things didn’t look too good for a moment, but then it was back to Arthur, and – then to Russell!

Grinning, he caught the pass and continued the rapid movement back toward the Crotalus goals. Who knew? Anything could happen today. For all he knew, they were going to do what they’d never done before, and score fifty points before the Snitch came into play, and then it would be two hundred to zero when Arnold caught the Snitch. That would be great. He’d like that a lot.

If he wanted to see it happen, though, he had to keep moving, keep going down the Pitch and looking for the optimal chance to pass. When he saw it, he took it without hesitation, aiming as carefully as he could without stopping to do it and making the pass underhanded, to avoid the overhead interceptions that had been happening a fair bit. It might not totally deter one, if they were determined enough, but it would do something, he thought. Hopefully, they were far enough ahead and enough on the Lady’s good side that they wouldn’t even need that kind of precaution, but it never hurt to be sure, he thought. Just in case things suddenly turned just on the basis of overconfidence. He guessed he was superstitious, but – funnily enough, he thought, a Crotalus sentiment – better safe than sorry, especially when things going bad usually involved broken bones for everyone.

16 Russell Layne, Aladren Trust us, we're Aladrens. 183 Russell Layne, Aladren 0 5

David Wilkes, Keeper
December 31, 2011 1:54 AM

David Wilkes, Keeper
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 14

...All righty, then. by David Wilkes, Keeper
As amusing as the thought of being the alternate-captain was, David was starting to think that he might have to keep this position next year, when the supreme power of decision about who went where came to him and he by and large just confirmed appointments all over again but knew that he could, if he really wanted to, rearrange things to suit his taste as far as he wanted. Because he was the Aladren Keeper, rather than the Crotalus one, he didn’t have much to do, and there was no better view of the game anywhere.

Well, there probably was, since he couldn’t make out much more of what was going on at the far end than that it involved blue and red figures in close proximity and that the cheers from one side meant Aladren had scored and the cheers from the other meant something else had happened, but he had yet to find a better one. In his first year at school, when he’d just come to Quidditch as a spectator, he had gotten the kind of crummy seat a first year could expect and hadn’t seen much, and for the past few, he’d been down there on the bench, craning his neck to see even as much as little blue dudes huddling in front of the other team’s goal posts. Being up here in the air, where he could generally look straight out to see what was what, was a lot nicer than that.

The one problem was that he did, sometimes, find himself in a position where he was expected to do something. Apparently, his teammates usually thought it good to keep him from having to do that, but sometimes, they apparently didn’t, and despite a year and a half of Divination classes, he didn’t know ahead of time which it was going to be. And right now, he didn’t know if he was going to be able to get out of doing anything, though he was seriously considering asking Professor Mathers about whether or not there were ways for a guy who wasn’t actually a Seer to find out if he was going to have to guard the goals or not in a Quidditch game, because Renée Errant was looking like she really wanted to get ‘round him, and he really didn’t want her to.

Ultimately, he still didn’t want her to, but she stopped looking like she wanted to try and instead…went off to watch, like she thought she was in the audience or something, and it was a show for her entertainment. David was enough distracted by this that it was a good thing that Arthur was being assertive, because he had watched her turn and only realized, with a jolt of his heart, that she didn’t have the Quaffle anymore when it was well too late for him to have gotten back away from the hoop she’d curved back toward and to the important ones if her teammate had actually succeeded in completing the pass and gone for the goal.

Yeah, he would not have wanted to sleep in the same corridor as most of the team tonight if that had happened. Somehow, he just didn’t see most of them taking that kind of thing as the sort of thing that could happen to any poor guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. At the very least, he’d spend the rest of the year paranoid, sure they were all against him for the failure when he was already wondering how much of a joke it was when he thought of them planning a coup. The third years were a weird and scary bunch.

The action was moving away from him, now, though, and he relaxed a little, watching them in the expectation of watching them dwindle until he couldn’t tell one from another except for a moment where he glanced toward what he believed to be the Seekers. Come on, Arnold, he thought, biting the inside of his mouth for a moment. Catch the Snitch while both of us are still okay with everybody except about three-quarters of the audience, which is not something I’m thinking about ‘cos it’s me who’ll be the focus of their antagonism right along with you next year if you don’t manage to lose this one and the first one next year. It’s a relevant fact even if I’m not thinking about it, though, so get a move on so we can go home and Renée doesn’t come over here again.

16 David Wilkes, Keeper ...All righty, then. 169 David Wilkes, Keeper 0 5

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
December 31, 2011 10:56 AM

Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 17

One doom is plenty for me. by Marissa Stephenson,Seeker
Oh, Arnold was running his mouth again. It was about time. Marissa didn’t think he’d tried to rile her up that way the entire game, she’d been wondering if he were sick or something. Despite the fact that her leg now hurt enough that she wasn’t even really aware of the lingering stiffness in her shoulder, she made herself smile. Or at least move her mouth in such a way that the corners of it were going vaguely upward and some of her teeth were visible.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she called back.

She was just considering whether it might be possible that she could signal something to one of her Beaters and he could be desperate enough to get involved and take Arnold out, since Edmond seemed to be taking the line that it was a little too dangerous to his boy to come after her again right now, when suddenly, Arnold was on her other side. Oh, great. By the time she could work anything out, he’d be back on the other again, and then again. Unless she could outfly him, but she had a vivid mental image of the two of them just crashing into each other.

Admittedly, it was a better mental image than the one of him beating her yet again, but it wouldn’t really do anything to help, it would probably just mean a pair of first years took their places – she had remembered the alternates – and the game would go on forever, because even a pair of pureblood firsties, against each other, were almost certainly going to have as much trouble reminding themselves not to watch what the Chasers were doing and get caught up in the excitement of it all. They had been watching it so far, which would be helpful, but even that wasn’t like actually being out here….

To her surprise, she realized she was going to miss this, either after today or after the final. She decided to put off examining that for later, though, in favor of looking for the Snitch. It couldn’t have left the field, she knew that, she’d read that. So sooner or later, it had to land somewhere it could be seen and caught. The Chasers might not be happy at not getting a chance to reclaim their honor after that second goal, but frankly, she was too bruised and battered to care much if they were.

16 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker One doom is plenty for me. 147 Marissa Stephenson,Seeker 0 5

Sam Bauer, Chaser
December 31, 2011 11:18 AM

Sam Bauer, Chaser
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 15

Just when I think that I'm out...this pulls me back in. by Sam Bauer, Chaser
Crotalus had a good team of Chasers. Everyone knew this. For years, they had referred to themselves, at least among themselves, as the best group of Chasers at Sonora, and had to some extent openly claimed the title, too. He guessed they had been nearly as annoying as the Aladrens about it, really. But while the claim was much easier to argue against these days, no one would argue, he thought, that Crotalus didn’t have a good team of Chasers.

In light of this, he wasn’t sure why he was quite so surprised when his pass to Renée actually succeeded, and the ball actually made some firm progress in one direction for a minute or two. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, really, but he was glad she was doing it, since that was the outcome, and they even got within sighting distance of David Wilkes again. Not to a goal, since Renée tried to pass backwards at the end and Arthur stole again, but they got to see the Aladren Assistant Captain, who looked…odd, but then, Sam really didn’t put that much time into analyzing the facial expressions of a Keeper he wasn’t against at the moment. He just turned his broom and went after the Quaffle.

Not fast enough, though. Never fast enough, which was definitely the frustrating thing. He got close enough to see Russell Layne complete the second pass in three plays, which was impressive in this game, he had to admit, but not close enough to be the one to keep the Aladrens from achieving what was a very real accomplishment in these games, and he just got to watch as the ball moved back toward Nic, again.

Maybe in Arthur, Sam had met his match; he didn’t know, but the guy could hold his own when it came to contests of suicidal determination to steal a Quaffle. Russell Layne, though? Nah, he was no problem. Sam could beat him. He could. He could beat Layne. He repeated that thought like a mantra as he pushed his broom as hard as it would go, flying after them, determined to get his hands back on the Quaffle, get things going for Crotalus again. They had almost had it a minute ago, and they could have it again. All he had to do was get over there….

It was as much to his surprise as anyone else’s that he actually pulled it off without getting his skull broken, but he resolved never to admit that even under torture. Instead, he just sped back toward the Aladren end, remembering that two out of three plays had been successful in the past few minutes, so it was no stupidity to imagine another might work as he looked for someone to pass to. Finding a figure and crossing (his fingers being a little busy with the Quaffle) his toes for luck for a second, he made a pass and then held his breath, not noticing he was doing it, waiting to see if it worked or not.

16 Sam Bauer, Chaser Just when I think that I'm out...this pulls me back in. 163 Sam Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Paul Bennett, Reserve
December 31, 2011 1:25 PM

Paul Bennett, Reserve
Alumnus
House: Crotalus
Written by:

Age in Post: 12

Great happiness by Paul Bennett, Reserve
Paul laughed at the comment about them getting up there. “You would,” he corrected the younger reserve. “I volunteered as the reserve. I was up there last year, and half of it’s feeling like you don’t know what to do, and the other half is wondering if the Careys are going to decide it’s fun to come after you.” He realized that comment was vague, but he left it that way on purpose, guessing the foreign kid probably wouldn’t know what he was talking about anyway, since even really…special families couldn’t be known too much outside their own country. At least none of their girls played Quidditch.

He shrugged, though, at the suggestion that they should pray not to lose. “It probably is too early to worry about it,” he agreed. “Renee and Arthur Carey haven’t stolen the ball from each other nearly enough. And look, no one’s even fallen off their broom.” That was almost a necessity in the Crotalus-Aladren game. Paul had only been here for a year himself, but he knew that much, if only from Eliza, who didn’t pay much attention to Quidditch. She would be out there in the stands now, so she was supporting the members of the team she had on her side and looking for anything she could use against Renee, but she wouldn’t have a clue what was going on outside of them – which meant knowing how Nic Sawyer was doing, basically – and wouldn’t even get most of it, anyway.

“It would be great to finally not lose, though,” he admitted. “Especially since it’s Marissa’s last year.” He glanced at the other boy, who was just about as close to his physical opposite, especially in coloring, as he could get. “Huh. That means next year, it’ll probably be you who gets to be up there.” He nodded toward the Seekers. “I don’t guess Arnold Carey will mind too much. It must be weird when everyone else in the entire school playing your position is a girl.”

That was something which had honestly never occurred to Paul before, but now that he thought of it, it was weird. Especially the Teppenpaw girl, Kate Bauer. Sure, Bauer was a Quidditch name, too, with Sam about to become the new captain, but Kate looked a lot more like Rachel Bauer, the Crotalus sixth year prefect, who Paul could have sworn was pureblood and who definitely socialized with them, anyway. Were all of the Bauers even related, anyway? There was another one, he’d noticed but only really thought of it now, in the first year who looked more like Sam, but acted more like Rachel.

Yes, there was something strange about that. He wondered what it was, but guessed he probably shouldn’t wonder too pointedly. Merlin knew his family would go into a towering rage if anyone asked too many questions about what they had in their closets; Paul didn’t even know himself what was in them beyond Aunt Katherine’s…lifestyle choices, just that it involved how they had managed to become socially prominent enough in two generations for his poor mad uncle to have been an ambassador before he went mad. That was the good thing about California society, which he’d been born to, and now Illinois society, where he lived; no one asked too many questions, because their families were, as often as not, just as recently entered into wealth and privilege.

0 Paul Bennett, Reserve Great happiness 201 Paul Bennett, Reserve 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}
December 31, 2011 5:56 PM

Renée Errant {Chaser}
Peripheral
Written by:

I guess we voluntarily signed up for this. by Renée Errant {Chaser}
Renée curved around the hoops in time to see Carey intercept the pass. Enforced positivity gave way to resignation that this was just the way the game had been going, was going, would probably continue to go for the remainder. She felt slower than usual as she shot off after Carey, Layne, and Sam who looked like he was readying for an interception. ‘Can’t catch up anyway.’ She continued for a few more seconds before stopping in the air, pausing, watching as the rest of the chasers streaked down the field. She wasn’t going to be able to catch up to be of help anyway. She needed to breathe, she needed to regain breath.

Sweat dripped over her face, she closed her eyes, wiping her face on the sleeve of her crimson robes. The exhilaration of the game was still there but stirring beneath the layers of exhaustion, of disappointment, of frustration. Her vision cleared save for her lashes that partially hid what was happening across the field from her, slightly squinting through the sun, adding hope on top of the layers, pushing exhilaration down further. ‘Come on, Sam...’ He made the interception and she turned on her Febre breathing and waiting, digging for exhilaration, digging for excitement, digging until she’d grabbed it, hauled it out, and felt energy.

Sam streaked by and she followed him immediately, catching his quick pass, and then went faster than him. She was bent low, bent straighter, and then made the same signal she had before. Five fingers raised, one thumb held high. Sam and Linus would know that she wasn’t going to be doing the same move as before, but hopefully Aladren would think so. Hopefully Wilkes would. She shot forward, toward him again, eyes and body careening toward the right goal hoop. She quickly twisted, and moved her body, her arm, as if she were passing to Sam. Feint. She curved seconds before she hit the right goal hoop, sweeping at high speed, imagining herself in a flock of birds, hidden by wind and sun, and insanely flapping feathers that brushed her skin. She sped around all three goal posts until she was at the left goal post and she twisted, and her arm lifted, and her arm pushed forward, and she shot.

The Quaffle left her hand, sped toward the left metal ring, straining to shoot through, score for Crotalus. Renée felt tired, felt ended, but she forced her eyes to stay open, fling open, lashes to her forehead, forcing herself to see the shot through. ‘Come on, come on, come on.’ She couldn’t do much at this point, but hover in the air, Febre still moving a little, her body a little twisted, her arm hanging by her side, throbbing a little from the throw.

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} I guess we voluntarily signed up for this. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
December 31, 2011 11:31 PM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

Yes, being doomed twice wouldn't be fun by Arnold Carey, Seeker
Arnold didn’t guess it was really the thing to do, under the circumstances, but he began to laugh when he heard Marissa’s comeback. “I sleep fine,” he assured her. It was true; he and Arthur couldn’t have been less alike in that respect. Arthur sometimes complained that if he did sleep well, he then felt even more wretched the next day, where Arnold usually slept well and woke up feeling well. He wondered, sometimes, why that was, but mostly wrote it off as Arthur thinking too much and having gotten head trauma when they were little.

When she didn’t really react to him changing sides, Arnold flew out a little in an arc, more to clear his head again so he could focus than anything. After it, he did feel a little better, though he didn’t know if it would be enough to guarantee him the win. His main evidence for that was just that she had never beaten him before, and even he, though aware that he was less clever than most of the people he was surrounded by at home and at school, knew that wasn’t much. Everyone had known the old twins would never make up, until one day when they had. Arnold hadn’t paid enough attention when they were told about that and why it was very important for them all, more distracted by his old question about how on earth they could have gone a hundred years on bad terms anyway and trying to figure out what could make him that mad at Arthur, but he did know it meant things could change all of a sudden, without warning or reason.

Though time, there would be a reason – probably that his arm had taken a hit and was still throbbing so he almost felt kind of sick and was doing all he could to ignore it so he wasn’t sick – so that part didn’t work, and he guessed there had been a reason then, he was told all the time that, even though he did it himself all the time, no one ever did anything without a reason, much less end a century and change-long feud, so…he wasn’t sure where he was going with that line of thought, and dropped it. It was a distraction from noticing bits that hurt, which was good, but also from the Snitch, which could be a complete disaster.

He wasn’t sure he had really even seen it all game. Where was it? Coach Pierce wasn’t having another joke, was she? Putting the Snitch out, then calling it back to make the game drag on while he got murdered? Very Crotalus of her, he’d guess, but she was supposed to be impartial during games. That was how it worked, and besides, if she was going to do that, wouldn’t the Final have been a better time? He couldn’t have kept Crotalus out of it if they’d played…he thought it should have been Teppenpaw, like it was in first year, today instead of Crotalus.

No, the Quidditch coach wasn’t trying to kill him. The Snitch just wasn’t cooperating. He’d have to wait it out. He could do that.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker Yes, being doomed twice wouldn't be fun 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

David Wilkes, Keeper
January 01, 2012 1:43 PM

David Wilkes, Keeper
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by: Grayson Wright

Age in Post: 14

Yeah, that's true. by David Wilkes, Keeper
It looked like the game was going to continue to go the way it had been going, constantly moving back and forth, everybody (except him) moving a lot without ever actually going anywhere. They could, in the right kind of game, stay in the middle of the Pitch for ages, going back and forth a few feet at a time.

That could happen, until someone got desperate. Then, things tended to go downhill for someone rather quickly, with either the Chaser who got desperate getting Bludgered or the Keeper he or she was up against having to cease being a spectator and do something for the team. Right now, short of another crazy move by the Aladren Chasers or a convenient Bludger or just some luck where a last-minute pass was the subject of an eleventh-hour interception, he was about to have to work.

For a second, he thought he was having that luck, remarkable as it seemed. Renee Errant was rushing toward him again, and then she was turning as if she were going to pass -

- Alas, as if. Some of the saddest words in the English language. They didn't quite reach the depressing heights of if only, but they were still pretty bad. He realized she hadn't let go of the ball after all, but just a second too late. He lunged for it, but did not quite have the suicidal tendencies of Thaddeus Pierce and stopped short of actually jumping off his broom, and so the Quaffle slipped just through his fingers and glanced off the far side of the hoop before, even as he caught up with it, falling through.

Torn between embarrassment and annoyance, David felt his face burn as he looped around to retrieve the red ball before it could leisurely drift to the ground. Half a second, not even that, maybe, if the hoop had been a fraction of an inch thicker, and he would have saved it. It would have been extremely close, but heck, that might have just made it more dramatic. But instead, Crotalus had gotten in a goal. He was going to have to at least consider rethinking this whole sanity thing. He knew himself well enough to know he'd keep it anyway, he'd prided himself on being the sane man of first a crazy family and now a crazy House for too long, but the alternative was at least worth a thought.

16 David Wilkes, Keeper Yeah, that's true. 169 David Wilkes, Keeper 0 5

Coach Amelia Pierce
January 01, 2012 2:52 PM

Coach Amelia Pierce
Former Staff
Subject: Quidditch Coach
Written by: Nathan

Age in Post: 38

Crotalus scores! 10-20 (nm) by Coach Amelia Pierce

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Crotalus scores! 10-20 (nm) 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker
January 01, 2012 7:59 PM

Arnold Carey, Seeker
Alumnus
House: Aladren
Written by:

Age in Post: 13

Winning twice should be a different matter by Arnold Carey, Seeker
When the Snitch first appeared, Arnold wondered for a moment if he was seeing things out of just wanting to see them, which didn’t seem like the least likely thing that could happen when they were playing Crotalus. When it didn’t vanish after a second, though, he accepted that it was probably real, and evidence that he had been right about the coach not trying to have him killed.

This, though, was a secondary consideration to going after it. Coach Pierce might not really be after him to make up for putting her team against his first when, well, there was kind of a pattern to Crotalus-Aladren interactions, but he didn’t think she would mind one bit if the other Seeker beat him to it. So he had to get there first, hopefully before Marissa even noticed, though he doubted that would work at this point, when it seemed to be the mutual idea that they should stick together like little old people in a snowstorm, or at least what he imagined that to be, to avoid further damage and she would be watching him, hoping to get lucky, just as he had been hoping.

Belatedly, as he dove, it occurred to him that this meant it was her last game, and he felt almost sorry for that. He liked Kate Bauer the best of his opposing Seekers, just because she had been the first, he guessed, but Marissa Stephenson was the one it was the biggest thrill to beat. The one he shouldn’t have been able to beat, really. As stupid as he knew it was, he thought he was going to miss her next year.

Then, though, his hand closed on the Snitch, and he ceased to really think much at all. He had it again. They could go on as they were scheduled to. Right on to the final and even more glory. At least that would – should be – comparatively easy this year.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker Winning twice should be a different matter 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Coach Pierce
January 01, 2012 8:18 PM

Coach Pierce
Peripheral
Written by:

Aladren wins! 170-10 (nm) by Coach Pierce

0 Coach Pierce Aladren wins! 170-10 (nm) 0 Coach Pierce 0 5

<font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

Game One: Aladren vs Crotalus by <font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

<font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

Quaffle, Snitch, and Game for Crotalus by <font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

<font color="red">Capt. Stephenson, Seeker</font>

Here we go again. by <font color="red">Capt. Stephenson, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue"> Kitty McLevy - Chaser</font>

You’ll have to do better than that! by <font color="blue"> Kitty McLevy - Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

Much, much better. by <font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

<font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

Try this on for size by <font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

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

I'm afraid I'd rather he didn't by <font color="blue">Captain Carey, Beater</font>

<font color="blue"> Kitty McLevy - Chaser</font>

Keeping things moving our way by <font color="blue"> Kitty McLevy - Chaser</font>

<font color="red">Sam Bauer, Chaser</font>

...Darn you, authorial coin-toss. by <font color="red">Sam Bauer, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

Continuing on in the right way by <font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

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

And again, and again, and again by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">David Wilkes, Keeper</font>

Commenting from my new position. by <font color="blue">David Wilkes, Keeper</font>

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

Seeking things that shine...or pretending to. by <font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font>

<font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

Aiding your search by <font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

<font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

I won the coin toss and all I got was... by <font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">Preston S., Beater</font>

Poom.Poom.Poom. by <font color="blue">Preston S., Beater</font>

<font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

Chasers, you're supposed to be on the other side by <font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

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

Fly, Chasers, fly! by <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font>

<font color="blue"> Kitty McLevy - Chaser</font>

Let’s just try that again by <font color="blue"> Kitty McLevy - Chaser</font>

<font color=blue>Thad Pierce, Reserve</font>

Watching, Waiting and Worrying from the Wings by <font color=blue>Thad Pierce, Reserve</font>

<font color="red">Sam Bauer, Chaser</font>

Nothing personal, but I hope you get Bludgered to a pulp. by <font color="red">Sam Bauer, Chaser</font>

<font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

That's not at all nice, but I find I agree by <font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

<font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

Aladren scores! 10-0 (nm) by <font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

<font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

Recentering and Recap by <font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

<font color="red">Sam Bauer, Chaser</font>

Restarting. by <font color="red">Sam Bauer, Chaser</font>

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

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

<font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

One more for the road by <font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

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

No, I think not by <font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font>

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

I see that. by <font color="red">Marissa Stephenson,Seeker</font>

<font color=red>Cepheus Princeton, Reserve</font>

Warming the bench and cheering silently. by <font color=red>Cepheus Princeton, Reserve</font>

<font color="red">Linus Macaulay, Chaser</font>

Starting by <font color="red">Linus Macaulay, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

Stealing. by <font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

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

He likes to make his points pretty clearly. by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

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

Or try to, at least by <font color="blue">Edmond Carey, Beater</font>

<font color="red">Paul Bennett, Reserve</font>

Not quite silently by <font color="red">Paul Bennett, Reserve</font>

<font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

Shooting by <font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

<font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

Watching Helplessly by <font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

<font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

Keeping by <font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

<font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

I knew prayer would work by <font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

<font color="red">Linus Macaulay, Chaser</font>

Livin' on a prayer by <font color="red">Linus Macaulay, Chaser</font>