Here we go again. 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

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

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

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

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

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
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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 
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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
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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
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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}
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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>