Getting started on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Olivers

March 14, 2015 3:41 AM

Quidditch Game II: Aladren vs. Pecari by Coach Olivers

The match between Aladren and Pecari was a little earlier in the term as opposed to last year. Though Sonora was located in the desert, the weather charms surrounding the school made it chillier. On the morning of the game, there was frost covering the grass that would assuredly be disturbed as soon as the match got started. But in any case, today was cold and foggy. As long as it didn’t rain during the game, Florence didn’t see any problems, though the gloomy day made her a little sleepy. The scouts were out in the stands as well for this game, so for any players interested in joining a professional league, today would be the day to excel.

This game seemed a little fairer. Both teams had seasoned players and no first-years on the team. It would make it a little easier to watch, or so Florence hoped. She really enjoyed being a coach despite only being a stand-in. It was a position she never would have imagined herself taking on before. After the players had come together, Florence gave a few minutes for the captains to make their team speeches before charming her voice and walking to the center of the pitch where the bludgers were strapped down, the Quaffle was on the ground, and the Snitch was still in captivity.

“Welcome to the second Quidditch match of the year. Today the match will be between Aladren, led by Captain Anthony Carey, and Pecari, led by Captain Rupert Princeton. Captains, please shake hands.” When Anthony and Rupert came together, she removed the charm from her voice. “I expect a good, clean game, boys. Good luck to both of you.” With that, she applied the Amplifying Charm to her voice once again. “When I blow my whistle, the game begins. The game ends when the Snitch is caught.” She held up the golden ball and its wings sprouted, ready to fly. She released it and it immediately took off and disappeared in the light fog. “Players, please take your positions.”

While the Keepers made their way to the hoops and everyone rose into the air, Florence put the whistle into her mouth and picked up the Quaffle. After waiting a moment, she blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air. After releasing the bludgers, she went to her post to keep an eye out.

The game had officially begun.

OOC: As per posting rules, please post two paragraphs minimum. Creativity, detail, and realism will be rewarded. Reserves can post once to receive points for their team. Make sure your names are colored according to your house color as well. Stick to the rules. No one should be falling from their broom to their deaths/injury. Any questions, pin it to the OOC board and tag Coach Olivers. Good luck!

Subthreads:

Getting started by Captain Anthony Carey with John Umland, Beater, Joella Curtis, Chaser

Being protective by Leonidas Bennett, Beater with Clark Dill , Seeker, Coach Olivers

Keeping my thoughts to myself by Theodore W, Keeper with Annabelle Pierce, Seeker, Liliana Bannister, Keeper

0 Coach Olivers Quidditch Game II: Aladren vs. Pecari 0 Coach Olivers 1 5

Captain Anthony Carey

March 15, 2015 2:23 AM

Getting started by Captain Anthony Carey

Sometimes, especially since studying weather charms under Olivers in her role as professor last year, Anthony suspected the staff of deliberately always making the weather bad on the days they scheduled Qudditch matches on. Today wasn’t as bad as some - there was no pouring rain, no draining heat, no infernal plague of locusts or dust or whatever else whoever was responsible could dream up - but it was cold enough to make Anthony shiver as he joined his team, and fog could be worse than rain for obscuring the Snitch.

He considered, and not for the first time, offering Clark the use of his own broom, but dismissed it again. It was too late for that; Clark wouldn't have time to get used to a different broom and Anthony wouldn’t be able to obtain a decent replacement. He should have just stopped dithering over whether or not he would offend the Seeker by making the offer months ago and, at the very least, borrowed brooms from home for Clark and John Umland both. They were both poor and possibly more than half-Muggle besides, but they were still Aladrens, so surely they would have seen the logic in it and swallowed their pride for the greater good. It was too late to think of that now, though. Maybe Francesca could do something with the idea next year if she still had to keep the pair on the team.

Today, though, Mr. Dill and Mr. Umland had to be teammates, not problems, and so he smiled calmly at them as well as the others as they gathered. “Good morning, everyone. I hope you all had a hot drink with breakfast,” he said, and then began what he refused to believe could be his last speech as captain.

“Pecari had a very good day in the rain last year," he said. "They're not going to have one in the fog today. We are as much better than them today as we've always been - if not more, if they've gotten cocky because of their...victory." Anthony pronounced the word with the smallest hint of distaste; he hadn't been at the game, but Malcolm had made it sound like a farce. "We are going to win this.

"Now. The fog is going to be the biggest problem for you, Clark, but we all have faith in you. Just keep your eyes open. Leonidas..." He hesitated for one second, but Clark needed to be well protected and Annabelle well and truly inconvenienced more than the Chasers needed help. He and Francesca, at least, could look after themselves. "Take care of Clark. Now..." He clapped his hands together. "Let's all go play."

He shook hands with Rupert Princeton and then, deliberately, put all thoughts of civility aside. The Quidditch Pitch was no place to think or act like a gentleman. When the Quaffle rose, he did not let ladies go first, instead joining the scramble for the ball right away and emerging victorious. Flying toward the Pecari goals, he waited until the physical thrill of those first moments subsided before looking for his teammates. Lining up with one, he turned quickly to pass back and slightly down toward where he thought the other was, hoping to throw off Adam and Annette and prevent the sort of constant steals he'd heard his cousin Andrew had had to deal with in the first game.

0 Captain Anthony Carey Getting started 0 Captain Anthony Carey 0 5

Leonidas Bennett, Beater

March 16, 2015 12:10 AM

Being protective by Leonidas Bennett, Beater

The match was going, Leo was sure, to be brutal, but there was nothing unusual about that. Aladren and Pecari had been bitter rivals on the Pitch for a long time, even when the other Houses had had teams in contention, and the teams were pretty evenly balanced in skill this year. Pecari had an advantage in numbers, but that would only come into play if someone in Aladren got too badly injured to play, and they were pretty good at avoiding that. Even Umland had avoided it last year, though he’d needed a lot of help to do it. He was a little concerned about John Spencer, but not enough to lose any sleep the night before the match. Which was just as well - bludgers and sleep deprivation didn’t mix.

He was unmoved by Anthony’s speech, only nodding when he received his assignment. Attempts to whip up enthusiasm, even much louder and more enthusiastic ones than that, did not affect him often; emotional appeals should, in his opinion, be left to the Teppenpaws and Pecaris. Aladrens and Crotali had no need of them, not in that way. The idea of being swept up in corporate ecstasies just seemed embarrassing to him.

Individual emotions, though, were something they all had to deal with. Emotions like worry that if Umland performed poorly, it would reflect badly on the person who had taught him his new position - namely, Leonidas Bennett. He had done what he could with what he had to work with, which should have been enough to make him not care, but it seemed that when you, and only you, taught someone something, it was hard not to feel a little invested in their success. He didn’t have anyone else to blame Umland on if he broke under pressure.

“Happy hunting,” he said to his apprentice as though not worried about that. What good could a vote of no faith possibly do? It might motivate some people to Show Him, but all things considered, he did not think there was a good enough chance to try it.

He kept his eyes on Dill as they got ready to and then did kick off, not wanting to lose him in the chaos and fog. If he was the Pecari captain, he would have at least considered having both Beaters try focus on beating Dill to death as quickly as possible and then helping the rest of the team at their leisure, and that meant the actual Pecari captain could have considered it, too. Leo knew he would be outmatched by a whole lot if both of them really did come after Dill at once and had the Bludgers, but the closer he was to Dill, the more likely he was to at least give the third year a fighting chance.

When the whistle blew, he moved into the air quickly, keeping close to the Seeker with that thought in mind. He shivered a little in the cold, but knew that wouldn’t last. Beating was hard work, and the exertion of swinging the bat again and again, as he would almost certainly have to against Pecari, should make up for any chill from the air as he raced through it soon enough.

0 Leonidas Bennett, Beater Being protective 269 Leonidas Bennett, Beater 0 5

Theodore W, Keeper

March 17, 2015 10:31 AM

Keeping my thoughts to myself by Theodore W, Keeper

Theodore was in the best physical shape of his life and it was all Portia Dobson’s fault. Portia was the worst combination of beauty, money and status imaginable. The girl wasn’t stupid, he grudgingly had to admit, but the relative proportions of the three previous factors made that all but irrelevant - she could glide easily through life without ever having to use anything but her pretty face, her last name and her bank account. It was almost more irritating that she seemed to have something of a brain but could happily let it lie dormant in favour of these utterly meretricious merits. And it was that which made it so galling that he was falling for it. He was under no illusions that he was in love with her, or - Merlin forbid - wanted to marry her. But her attractiveness worked on him, and made him want her in far less appropriate ways. He was disappointed enough in himself for the general lack of self-control but even more so that his desires had attached themselves to someone so frivolous. It was beneath him to want such things in the first place, much worse that what was luring him in was nothing more than a pretty face. Portia being superficially attractive had been enough to make him throw all his principles of what a girl should be out Or, theoretically might have been. It was all moot anyway because it wasn’t as if their set engaged in casual dating, and the benefits that might go with it, so it was only ever going to be his private shame. Unless he could come up with some convincing line to get her to secretly make out with him. He was ashamed to say he had given the matter quite some thought, along with what might happen if she said yes…. But every time he thought about Portia that way, he went running, until it didn’t bother him any more. He had been running a lot this term.

The mist that hung in the air on the day of their match wasn’t a problem for him. He enjoyed running at home in the winter, when the air sharply stung your lungs. The hint of cold made him feel more alert. True, visibility was an issue, but his part of the game was usually slower paced than the others, and the Quaffle was the most visible ball under any circumstances, besides which everyone else laboured under the same handicap. He only had to make sure he wasn’t snuck up on by Bludgers but the mist shouldn’t stop his ears from working…. Though it would hamper John, who really didn’t need anything more stacked against him. Still, after their chat at breakfast before the try-outs, Theodore had faith in John’s pragmatism, if nothing else; he wasn’t jumping to Beater out of a sense of panic or embarrassment but rather reasonable logic. And perhaps not being able to see everyone else, or much of the crowd, would help John’s tendency to over-analyse, panic or both.

He kicked off as instructed, making his way to the hoops. It was more disorienting than he had imagined. He flinched a few times, imagining sounds, or misplacing them. Without the visuals he was used to, it was surprisingly difficult to be sure what he was hearing. It was also disturbing not to be able to see the Chasers and to have no idea which way the match was proceeding. He had chosen Keeper because it was disconnected from the heat of the action - because he valued his own personal bubble. As he hung uncertainly in the air, feeling isolated in the most negative sense of the word, he supposed this might constitute a cautionary tale in being careful what one wished for….

13 Theodore W, Keeper Keeping my thoughts to myself 270 Theodore W, Keeper 0 5

John Umland, Beater

March 18, 2015 1:40 AM

Likewise. by John Umland, Beater

Once, near the end of a game of chess, John’s oldest brother had slipped a pawn past him and promoted it to...knight. John had looked at it in confusion for several seconds before taking it with one of his rooks and still did not know what Steve had had in mind. John had won the game in his next move. He’d read about how knights were useful, but found them hard to work with himself; when he won, he depended most heavily on his rooks, and games could often turn into dances around the board when his siblings, aware of this, tried to capture them. The most use he usually got out of his knights was capturing inconvenient enemy rooks, and that was only when he was lucky.

He had decided not to mention it to his teammates, but John was not sure how well that boded for the Quidditch match, since he now, according to his own Quidditch-chess analogies, was a knight. A knight or a queen, but all things considered, he fit the first option better. For one thing, any comparison of his status on the team to Leonidas’ was sure to end with John being declared the less valuable piece. For another, the knight’s ‘hippity-hoppity moves,’ as their bishop had so eloquently put it last year, were closer to his style of Beating. All ways were the queen’s ways, as the Red Queen had explained to Alice, and he knew he was neither strong nor fast enough to play that way. He had to rely on knowledge of basic physics and aiming well.

Strength still played a part in it, though, a big part, so when the dining hall opened at seven, John was at the doors. He had researched how to eat before sports matches over the summer and applied the information he had acquired by selecting a bowl of warm porridge with pieces of apricot and a hint of cinnamon as the centerpiece of his breakfast. Though it pained him, he applied more knowledge still in his side selections, eating his toast warm with peanut butter on it instead of cold with real butter and, worse still, limiting himself to only a single cup of tea. Since that cup was both larger and stronger than usual as a result, he wondered for a moment if he should drink two glasses of milk instead of the recommended one to make up for it, but in the end he had stuck to one. He liked quite a few milk products, but had never been crazy about plain milk as a beverage.

Once he consumed all that, he thought he still could have eaten a little more (food had started to become a bit more interesting in the past few months; research indicated this was probably the first evidence there was some actual, rather than purely social and therefore irrelevant to him, significance to being thirteen since September), but since becoming violently sick in midair just sounded like one of those things that was not a good idea, he refrained. Instead, thus fortified, he went to the library to read for a while to steady his nerves before he started getting ready for the game.

Outside, the air was cold and, to him at least, bracing. The fog was less welcome - it was hard to see in and uncomfortable to stand in for long, so he didn’t expect flying in it to be fun at all - but he guessed it could keep them all cooler in the game than they would have been, so maybe there was a hint of a silver lining. At least everything - probably - wouldn't get as slippery as in a real rain. He still looked up to the sky and hoped for the sun to come out, though.

”We are as much better than them today as we've always been - if not more, if they've gotten cocky because of their...victory,” said Anthony, and John found himself torn between amusement and mild disapproval. He glanced around at the others to see if anyone else was having a similar reaction, then smiled for a second when Leonidas wished him luck. “The same to you,” he said.

Sometimes, he really did have to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to like any of these people but Clark - that it was as good as a betrayal to his mother and middle brother to feel something he thought might be camaraderie with Leonidas, to think Francesca would be a very interesting person to argue with, or to very much want to play actual chess with Theodore, which was particularly stupid given the number of correspondence games he had going on most of the time. The reminders didn’t always work, either. He scrubbed the toe of his shoe through a yet-un-crunched patch of frost, as though to erase the thought, as he started to mount his broom. Definitely not something to think about now.

Leonidas had Seeker duty, which (since splitting the Beaters seemed to be the default Beating strategy for all the teams at Sonora) left John with the Chasers. He decided to assume Anthony had made that call because John had been a Chaser last year knew how Anthony and Francesca played. He noticed, of course, that this did not account for Leonidas taking care of the Chasers last year, which meant Anthony could have had a different reason, good or bad, for putting him where he was, but John forced it down a background buzz in his head. It was a distraction. He had once chance to prove to the team – to Theodore in particular – that he was good, or at least competent, at something out here, and the fog was really not going to help. He needed every scrap of focus he could get.

He had knowledge, though – both knowledge of things, and knowledge of how to apply the other knowledge. More or less, anyway. He had practiced a lot in MARS on top of team practices and thought he now knew more or less how Bludgers behaved: though they would for some reason (he wondered about the nature of the straps holding them in their case and the forces involved) fly into the air when released instead of attacking Olivers, at least one was sure to ‘sense’ players pretty quickly and stop moving in a straight line to attack the nearest warm body instead. As the Chasers all converged on the Quaffle, he ducked beneath their scramble to put himself in what he thought, from watching the moment of the Bludgers’ release instead of the initial rise of the Quaffle, would be the more threatening Bludger’s path.

He got it right, but underestimated the speed of the Bludger a little. He only just got his bat moving in time to hit it back toward the ground; three seconds, he was sure, and it would have broken his nose. As his nose was not his best feature anyway, he thought it was for the best that he’d hit the Bludger the way he had, even though it had not really gained them any tactical advantage other than allowing him to retain his usual level of attractiveness (or lack thereof) and avoid a lot of pain. The latter was, he guessed, a bit of a tactical advantage; it was hard to concentrate when one was in pain.

His thoughts raced as it went back on the offensive. If he just hit it in away from Anthony, back toward their own goal – no. He was definitely not strong enough to hit it so far that it would pose a threat to Theodore, but it would just boomerang back and he’d have to fight it again. Gritting his teeth, he flew quickly, for him and his broom, anyway, to meet it instead of waiting for it to come to him, flying in a half-loop to face the direction of the action, and redirected it, after a quick glance to make sure the robe’s owner wasn’t knee-to-knee with an Aladren, toward a brown robe when it tried to go for his ribs.

Blinking, feeling as though he were sweating already, John squinted into the fog and prayed that Clark didn’t have to dive through the Chaser level for the Snitch this game, at least not in the part of the Pitch the Chasers were in. In this mess, it would be hard to see him before he was right on top of them all, and John would have to leave the country if, hitting the Bludger away from one of their Chasers at some point, he accidentally cracked his own Seeker’s skull right before Clark would have collected the Snitch for them. He filed that away as another problem he couldn’t solve right now, though, in favor of following the action, staying close enough to see what had happened with his attempt and try to defend the Chasers if a Pecari Beater struck back or the ball just went toward an Aladren next and to make sure he knew where the Quaffle was and if he and the others were even going in the right direction.

16 John Umland, Beater Likewise. 285 John Umland, Beater 0 5

Captain Princeton, Beater

March 19, 2015 5:23 PM

Don't mind me. by Captain Princeton, Beater

Though Rupert was never personal on the pitch, he did feel considerably bad about the last match they had played against the inexperienced Teppalus. It wasn't so much of a defeat as it was a massacre and Johnson had come away with an incredible injury by the looks of it. It didn't leave Rupert feeling very good about their victory, but he didn’t exactly regret it. He just wished their victory had been a bit more merciful than it had been. This match, however, mattered more than the last. The scouts were here and Rupert wanted to make a lasting, positive impression in hopes of securing his career after Sonora.

He worried slightly about Adam's playing during this match. Adam was much more sensitive than Rupert was on the pitch and this time around Jack Spencer would be joining the Aladrens. Rupert didn't want to doubt his team of Chasers, but if Adam's performance was worse because of Jack, Rupert wasn't quite sure how the dynamic between the three of them would be. He just had to hope his cousin would be able to put aside his personal feelings on the pitch.

Rupert was planning to give it his all. There were scouts watching and Aladren was a tough team. He wouldn't feel bad knocking a few with a bludger. The morning began quietly, and Rup began with a bit of meditation which he’d learnt from Wendy over the holiday. Afterwards, he made his way down to Cascade an hour before the match to hopefully meet the rest of his team if they chose to breakfast with him. He had his cup of tea and eggs and sausage, all the while keeping his mind on the impending match. He nibbled on a bit of fruit as well, eyeing the coffee as though he were tempted to taste a bit. Instead, thirty minutes afterwards he made his way to the pitch.

It was still relatively empty, but Rupert used that time to warm up his muscles and directed his team-mates to do the same as they trickled in. He was excited for the match to begin. If they didn't win, that would be a shame, but at least Aladren was a challenging opponent. As Rupert stretched his arms and swung his bat a few times, he focused his mind by thinking about the tactics he would use. He hadn’t spent any time over the winter holiday exercising. Instead, upon his return to Sonora he had immediately gone to MARS to strengthen his arms and work on his aim in preparation for this match. Though he didn’t want a repeat of what had happened in the match prior, he did hope to injure one of the Aladrens enough to inhibit their skill and focus.

Rupert wanted to join an American Quidditch league so badly that he even dreamt about it during the night. He couldn’t remember his dream from last night, but he had woken up with the weightless feeling of having flown all night long. He couldn’t imagine his professors understood just how serious he was about this sport. His schooling was secondary to getting his career as a professional Quidditch player started.

Once his team had assembled, Rupert brought them together for his last pep talk as their captain. "We've had a good run, mates. Let's finish this off on a high note. Adam, I know your brother is on the opposing team, but keep your head in the game. Annette and Joella, keep on the good work. Atlas, mark the Seeker and don't be afraid to cause some damage. Annabelle, you know what to do. Aladren is a strong team, but we've got a lot more team morale than they have. Don't underestimate them, but remember what we've done in practise. Let's beat the crap out of them and go home happy, all right?" Rupert smiled and put his hand in the middle. "Pecari on three. One, two, Pecari!"

The fog was relatively thick, but Rupert didn’t concern himself over it. This was much better than that nasty rain last term. This was going to be a good game, he could already feel it, and he wasn't going to let one of the pesky Aladren Beaters lay a bludger on his Chasers. Rup shook Carey’s hand at the appointed time and nodded at Professor Olivers before mounting his broom. As soon as the whistle was blown, Carey took off with the Quaffle and Rup waited in the air for the bludger to be released. Umland took the first hit, catching Rup slightly off-guard. He soared after it, luckily in relatively close range – it being the beginning of the match – and deflected the bludger towards the ground.

He followed it and redirected it towards the Chasers a distance away that were congregated around the Quaffle, aiming for a blue-clad player. He hoped the fog would be enough of a distraction for both Umland and the Chaser. Whilst his aim was excellent, the somewhat lengthy distance was a dangerous bet, and Rup was suddenly anxious. It would most likely catch a Chaser off-guard because the crack of the bat would sound at a distance, but there were risks of it hitting the wrong player. Rupert just hoped dearly that, if it did not hit the blue Chaser he'd aimed at, it would accidentally hit an Aladren instead of a Pecari.

0 Captain Princeton, Beater Don't mind me. 0 Captain Princeton, Beater 0 5

Joella Curtis, Chaser

March 19, 2015 6:38 PM

Full of energy. by Joella Curtis, Chaser

Joella had returned from the midterm break with great excitement regarding Pecari's due match against Aladren and this feeling had not waned over time. Her team's easy victory over Teppalus had in fact been her first and she was eager for another within the term. Admittedly the general attitude toward that win had not been quite the same as she suspected it would have been should the team not have consisted of so many second and first years, all of whom seemed to be inexperienced in competitive Quidditch.

Today was rather too foggy for the second year's liking but it had nothing on the horrendous rain of the last game and therefore did little in impeding her high spirits. Not for the first time, the young Pecari wondered that she had never seen truly good weather on a match day. On reaching the pitch, Joella joined the rest of the team in warming up as directed by Rupert.

Since the holidays, Joella had resumed her usual routine practices in MARS and also taken the right amount of seriousness with her to the Pecari team practices. Even after all the delicious Christmas food over the break, the twelve year old felt in shape. She was both physically and mentally prepared to give her all today and help gain her house the Quidditch Cup.

She, for one, knew she wouldn't feel at all bad about catching Theodore Wolfseithcrafte out at his hoops as she had done a bit during the Teppalus match. Poor little Ginger Pierce had been laden with some fairly impossible shots from the Pecari Chasers but Joella would very much enjoy seeing the Aladren Keeper having even half the bad luck the Teppenpaw first year had.

It was only Rupert's speech that reminded Joella of her prior knowledge that Adam's young brother was to be opposing them. She found herself looking forward to seeing him play. As far as she was aware, Joella had never spoken to the younger Aladren and wasn't even sure what position he held on their rival Quidditch team but was nonetheless keen to see if talent for the sport ran in the Spencer family. At her Captain's words, she considered briefly that it should worry her but only found she had more than enough faith in her older team-mate that Adam's play would be no worse simply because of his brother being in the opposition. But then again, having no younger siblings she could not be certain of the power which Jack Spencer had over her fellow Chaser's game.

The whistle blew and Joella pushed off, racing to reach the Quaffle first. Seeing that the Aladren Captain had emerged triumphant, she hurried after him. She travelled fast on her speedy broom which was quite necessary to make up for the delay of extracting herself from the initial Chaser scuffle. Carey passed backwards, which would have been convenient had he not aimed down as well. Joella immediately changed angle from her higher altitude but unfortunately found herself just too late to intercept the pass.

8 Joella Curtis, Chaser Full of energy. 295 Joella Curtis, Chaser 0 5

John Umland, Beater

March 20, 2015 2:59 PM

You're kind of hard to miss. by John Umland, Beater

The Bludger did not land as he hoped it would or hoped it wouldn’t. Instead, it went right back toward the ground as a Pecari Beater swooped in to rescue his teammate. When he determined which one it was, John felt as though his stomach sank down in his abdomen, completely ignoring the intestines and other organs that should have impeded its progress, and was pinned in its new location several inches lower than nature had intended for it to reside by a gigantic lump of ice formed just for the purpose. He did not recognize many people he didn’t interact with regularly, but he did know who the other captains were, and this was one of them.

Sir Pinabel, he thought, almost able to hear his mother telling the story of the Song of Roland. He didn't remember it exactly, but words like "vast," "swift," and "small hope" came to mind.

John guessed that, physically, he made as good a match to Pinabel’s opponent Thierry as this game had to offer. Not only was he smaller and slighter than Princeton, he even had the correct hair color. He tried to look on the bright side – Thierry had won his duel – but remembered, too, that his counterpart had only pulled it off because God deigned Thierry from death to save. Somehow, John doubted his Quidditch match and his reasons for participating in it were either pure or important enough to warrant divine intervention, which left him with just his own strength to rely on.

He had some (John did not think of it as one of his defining attributes, just as the result of some things he did either for his health or for fun when he wasn’t working, but he was actually fairly athletic), but a seventh year was going to have a lot more. If nothing else, if the game somehow went on long enough, John thought it was possible Princeton could just keep him hopping until he was too exhausted to even defend himself, leaving Princeton at least some window to pick off the Chasers uninterrupted. It wasn’t, from what John had read, the best tactic for dealing with an enemy Beater, but Princeton was probably working on the assumption that John was even weaker than he really was. That meant Princeton might try it, which meant there was a chance this game could really go not so well for John.

Princeton vanished into the fog after deflecting the Bludger, and John, knowing he could not win a race to recapture it, flew closer to the action, hoping this would make it at least a little easier to defend his Chasers from whatever Princeton was planning next. However it ended, he’d drawn his glove - somehow, thinking of it in these terms, no matter how aware he was that he was not exactly fighting for a just cause or even dueling Princeton directly, helped him feel a little braver and less stupid - when he volunteered for the position in September and now he had to go through with it. That was all.

From somewhere below, there was a crack of bat against metal; John looked around frantically, but didn’t immediately see its source. Sound traveled faster in liquids and solids than in gases; evidently, the fog was heavy enough to distort sound. He’d hear things from further away than in clear air. That was going to be nerve-wracking – it was easy to think the Bludgers were closer than they were, and hard to figure out exactly how far away they were – but he thought he might be able to use it to his advantage. There was no way he could figure out anything approaching exact times or anything, not without a lot more data points than, under the circumstances, he wanted to collect, but if he could be ready for it, that would help –

This time, at least, it did, but Princeton had hit it a long way. When he heard the whistle of it, he started flying, feeling noble and terrified, toward the sound. He didn't get it quite right; the black shape shot past him and he had to fly after it to get it to turn its attention to him. John scowled, jealous of Princeton's arms, as he caught up and smacked the Bludger back toward a Pecari. He had been able to block it because of the distance it had to travel, thought that hitting something that could move independently that far might have made it, if possible, even more likely to end up attacking one of Princeton’s own people instead of the enemy if it had made it to the Chasers, and knew that the greater momentum of the Bludger right after it was hit meant that it was going to be a lot harder for him to keep up, if he could at all, once Princeton returned to playing in close quarters, but despite all that, John couldn’t say he was exactly happy to have it rubbed in just what an…impressive specimen Princeton was compared to him.

16 John Umland, Beater You're kind of hard to miss. 285 John Umland, Beater 0 5

Francesca, Chaser

March 24, 2015 10:06 AM

Some Beaters are more easily missed than others by Francesca, Chaser

The winter break had been very pleasant. The usual round of parties always interested her because mother kept good company but it had had the added value this year of giving her a chance to see friends who had now graduated, such as Jay. It had been wonderful to have his company in person again, rather than just through letters, though again it was tinged with regret that they had only become that much closer during his final year. His tales of the real world were less than inspiring but she was still looking forward to being out in it, free to come and go as she pleased. She often found herself viewing Sonora through the filter of the letters she would write to Jay, composing and narrating her daily experiences in her head as she might relate them to him. A finite amount of it made it to paper, as life within the school walls was frequently none too newsworthy, but it made her feel less cut off.

The Quidditch match afforded her an excuse for a good letter, although she was sure she would be competing with Anthony to tell that news. She hoped she would have good things to write - composing letters about their stunning victory seemed far more appealing than mourning a defeat. It was almost an extra reason to want a win - she was sure that losing would suck all the appeal and pleasure out of writing her next letter, so to lose would be to have two things taken from her.

The morning of the match made for a good start, as it was shrouded in mist, which was bound to add an interesting element. Francesca prepared with an un-newsworthy breakfast of porridge with banana, the same as she ate on all match days, and a good few others.

Anthony’s speech rolled over her, she watched the formalities, and then they were off. She went wide of the scrimmage for the Quaffle, figuring it could easily get nasty in this weather and it was better to have more bodies on the outside. She saw a blue blur leaving the pack. Logic dictated that it was Anthony with the Quaffle, based on size and direction of flight, and she took off in pursuit, being sure to keep close due to the reduced visibility.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of bats on Bludgers were cracking around them, weirdly distorted by the fog. She glanced around but it was hard to see…. It made the most sense to keep her eyes on Anthony and hope for further warning, or for the Beaters to be doing their job right. John seemed to be doing alright in training, and Theodore had reported that he had not discovered his roommate at any point hitting his head against a wall or pulling out his own hair, which he took to be a good sign. Still, training was one thing. Actual match dynamics, in tricky weather were another. Francesca put her blind faith in John because there seemed to be no other practical option - she could not keep a good look out herself, and getting spooked by second guessing his capabilities was only going to make her play badly. So, she told herself it was being taken care of. It was, if nothing else, going to be the most interesting element of her letter to Jay, and so she relished John’s performance as rich source material, whichever way it went. But deep down she didn’t have the same trust as she had had in the Beating team before, and she knew whom she would much rather have had guarding her, instead of just hearing about it later…

Francesca was positioned well and received Anthony’s pass, one of the Pecari Chasers brushing close by and clearly in a prime position to make herself a nuisance. As she set off on her run, she found John swooping into the action, deflecting a Bludger. She couldn’t say for sure whether she had noticed it before his arrival or because of it, and found herself reassured by having some actual evidence to base her trust in him on. It certainly made doing so a lot easier.

She slipped through the mist, remembering her first matches. Even without her vision impaired, it always felt like she had gone further than you really had when holding the Quaffle. Knowing that you were the focus of attention - not always a positive thing when the opposite side was aiming heavy metal balls at you - made time behave strangely. She was sure the mist would act the same way, making her feel she’d travelled further than she really had - like running with your eyes shut. She counted steadily as she flew, though she wasn’t sure how many seconds was reasonable. It made her feel like she had some kind of plan though, some kind of input to make up for what was lacking.

She was past ten when another blue player hove into sight, and that seemed good enough, so she passed.

13 Francesca, Chaser Some Beaters are more easily missed than others 250 Francesca, Chaser 0 5

Anthony Carey, Chaser

March 25, 2015 8:28 PM

I like the ones who miss whenever they aim at me by Anthony Carey, Chaser

Diana’s roommate – Miss Curtis, that was her name – materialized out of the fog to follow the Quaffle down after Anthony threw it, and Anthony held his breath for a moment until he saw that the direction of the game had not changed. Either his fellow Aladren, who he guessed from size was Francesca, had caught the ball or the ball was still falling. He hoped it was the first.

He also hoped he wasn’t about to take a Bludger to the head. He could hear bats hitting Bludgers, but couldn’t see what was going on. Since he had not been hit yet, he had to assume John had somehow managed to interact with a Bludger, but he did not really trust the second year even in good weather. It was only the near-impossibility of winning without an intact Seeker which had made him put Leonidas with Clark – another one he didn’t think he would ever have really gotten used to even if he had more years to deal with them. If only they could get Arnold and Jay back; whatever was going on with Jay and Francesca might have caused complications eventually if he hadn’t left, but….

He tried to stop thinking. It was a distraction, and he really did not need that. He couldn’t even really see the crowd in the stands, which was not a good thing – they made more disconnected noises, plus someone chasing the Snitch or Quaffle or busy avoiding a Bludger might fly into them by mistake. The only good thing about it was how much harder it made it for everyone to look for people they either did or didn’t want to see in attendance. He was as bad as anyone else about that; he was curious which side his relatives in Pecari had taken, and if he’d seen Effie, the desire to be a little more impressive than sensible might have clouded his judgment. It was bad enough that he had spent time in the past few days imagining, fully aware of how unlikely it was, victory celebrations that involved praise and kissing. It would be worse to go out of his way to try to further his imaginings. It was not the right way to do things.

Finding and covering the Quaffle-bearer was a better use of his time, especially since Jack was not exactly the best flier he had ever met, so he did that. The Quaffle came back toward him quickly after he lined up with the other blue robe and he almost missed it, but got it between his hands before it could fall. Once he did, he rose again, then, hoping his own people would be able to follow him, dove again, hoping to throw off the Bludgers he was sure had to be on the way. If Princeton couldn’t keep up with where he was, he had a better chance of making it, he thought.

Time stretched out painfully as he flew with the Quaffle and he cursed the weather charms and all who were associated with them. They were nothing but trouble. If the founders had been so fond of Ireland and what he assumed was Irish weather, why hadn’t they stayed there? When he saw another blue uniform, he passed toward it, not even sure how much ground he had covered or how far from the goals they were. If they ever got there, the Keeper probably didn’t have a chance, but he wasn’t sure that was enough to make up for the rest of the inconvenience.

0 Anthony Carey, Chaser I like the ones who miss whenever they aim at me 0 Anthony Carey, Chaser 0 5

Annette Pierce, Chaser

March 26, 2015 3:56 PM

Flying in a fog by Annette Pierce, Chaser

Annette had heard there would be scouts in the stands. She had no illusions she was good enough to play professionally, of course, even if her mother wouldn't keel over in death at the very thought of it, but it was still a thought that bounced around in the back of her head, increasing her desire to perform well and beat Aladren for her final Quidditch appearance.

Of course, with the fog making it difficult to see even partway across the pitch she wasn't sure how the scouts planned to evaluate anybody's playing style. Divining stones, maybe? She thought she might need some herself just to keep track of the Quaffle.

Rupert talked, Olivers talked. Annette was sure they probably said useful and expected things, but she didn't hear a word of it. She was too busy shifting on her feet, passing her broom from one hand to the other, and trying to learn how to peer through the fog - she did not envy her sister her job today - to be passably functional as a Chaser. She was sure she must have played in fog before, but either it was a while ago or she had blocked out the memory.

Then the whistle was going and she kicked off, but she'd not been entirely ready for it, so the remaining Carey on Aladren's team - Anthony Some Number Bigger Than Six - took early possession of the Quaffle. Ann flew after him, but she was on the wrong side of him to interfere with his pass to ... Francesca, probably? Yes, Francesca. Joella (the brown robed player was certainly too small to be Adam) made a valiant effort on the other end, but did not manage to pull it off.

Ann kept after Anthony but she heard the crack of a bludger - not the first one this game either - spear through the fog and she got a piercing sense of personal danger that had more to do with pure instinct than concrete awareness of the bludger's proximity. She veered away, and looked behind her. Sure enough, there it was, gaining.

She pulled off enough fancy maneuverings to loose it to waning momentum and fog, but she'd also lost enough time that she couldn't even see the Quaffle anymore. Making an educated guess based on its last known possessors that it was probably in the direction of Lilliana and the Pecari goals, she bent over her broom and made all speed in that direction, hoping she might be able to burst dramatically out of the fog and help disrupt an Aladren play.

0 Annette Pierce, Chaser Flying in a fog 0 Annette Pierce, Chaser 0 5

Annabelle Pierce, Seeker

March 27, 2015 11:02 AM

Me, too. by Annabelle Pierce, Seeker

Annabelle had won against the Crotalus Seeker, which was good, really good. She might have had to relinquish her position to Jamie in abject shame had she lost again to a younger, less experienced player. That victory had kept her in good spirits for most of the midterm and she'd even felt enough confidence to try talking to a couple real professional players at the Woolseithcrafte's Christmas brunch, but now it was time to go up against her small Aladren nemesis again, and that left her tense and irritable.

Clark Dill had grown a bit since last year, she'd noted during the week leading up to the game. She wasn't spying on the third year or anything, but at meals, her eyes had drifted toward to Aladren table and, more evenings than not, she found herself scowling at the kid. And noting he was losing his size advantage. Seekers were supposed to be small, and Annabelle was, despite being one of the oldest students in the school, only just taller than five feet tall and slim. Clark was already showing all the signs that he was going to be a rather tall guy when he finished growing, and she was pretty sure he was now larger than her in both height and weight.

Add that to her better broom and years more experience playing on Sonora's pitch, and she really ought to crush him today.

Unfortunately, the weather charms seemed to have other ideas. Clearly, they hated her. She hadn't thought they could do worse than the cold driving rain from the last match, but she was evidently wrong. Finding the snitch in this fog was going to be far more a matter of luck than skill, and she already knew which of the two seekers playing today that Lady Luck favored.

It wasn't her. Lady Luck despised her, Annabelle was pretty sure. Just like the weather charms did. This was clearly a personal vendetta they were both waging against Annabelle Pierce specifically.

Rupert had nothing useful to say and she nodded when he told her she knew what to do, though she felt no real confidence that she did. Oh, she knew Seeking, at least as well and probably better than Rupert did himself so it wasn't surprising he had no advice for her, but she did not know how to combat the certainty that this fog gave lucky Clark Dill the advantage.

Still, she kicked off, determined to end her cursed Quidditch career as best she could and without embarrassing herself in front of the professional scouts in the stands Annette had been going on about that morning at breakfast. Even if she had no chance (or even a fleeting desire) to play professionally herself, she knew Rupert was hoping to, and as Captain, he'd probably look better to them if his team won. And in a school level game like this, that was up to her.

Though, flying off on her own and quickly losing sight of most of the other players in the fog, she wondered how the scouts would even see anything today.

The crack of bats hitting bludgers echoed ominously through the blind landscape, but none of them seemed aimed at her yet. She just hoped either Atlas was nearby keeping her safe or, even better, near Clark and keeping him too busy for Luck to show him the Snitch.

0 Annabelle Pierce, Seeker Me, too. 0 Annabelle Pierce, Seeker 0 5

Clark Dill , Seeker

March 27, 2015 1:21 PM

Being Protected by Clark Dill , Seeker

Clark was secretly glad he'd been able to watch the last game from under the safety of his best biggest umbrella and had largely avoided the soaking that the players had suffered. Walking out onto the Pitch, now, though, he wondered if maybe the weather charms were trying to even the scales.

Rain might have been uncomfortable, but fog was definitely worse from a Seeker's point of view. None of his carefully calculated seeking patterns for watching the optimal amount of the Pitch would be of any use if he couldn't see twenty feet in front of him. Bumbling around randomly would have him covering the same amount of visual distance and be just as unlikely to stumble upon the snitch.

The only two saving graces were that (a) Annabelle Pierce was suffering the same handicap and her quicker broom wouldn't help her so much if she didn't know where to fly to, and (b) School level snitches got bored after a while and would probably come find them before sundown. It still might be long game on Sonora terms before that happened though.

Clark pulled his Quidditch robes closer around himself. The damp air and the cool January temperatures were not a good combination in his opinion. Maryland wasn't exactly tropical this time of year, but he still preferred warm weather to cold weather. Anthony kept his speech mercifully short, also acknowledging Seeking in the fog was going to be a problem, so at least Clark didn't feel pressured to find the snitch as quickly as if it were a clear day.

He nodded his good luck to John - John being his closest peer in both age and social class on the team - but was mildly relieved to know he'd have Leonidas watching his back today. (Not that Clark was remotely aware of John's lack of success as a Chaser - being the Seeker, he was fairly isolated from the rest of the team - he just assumed Leonidas' larger bulk and older age was a better indicator of strength and therefore Beating ability.)

Soon enough, the whistle blew and Clark kicked off, flying in a direction chosen partly at random and partly to get some distance away from the Chasers. Leonidas tagged along behind, and Clark gave him a nod, acknowledging his presence and thanking him for his protection. Then he set to the difficult task of finding the snitch.

He set himself to a pace half again faster than his normal cruising speed, working on the assumption that it would cover more ground and he didn't need as long to look around since he couldn't see as far. He also set a pattern that rose up and down as well as traversed the usual horizontal plane he normally paced, figuring that would let him find the snitch better if it wasn't hiding within twenty feet or so of standard seeking altitude.

It was going to be a much athletic and faster paced game than he generally played, but at least he was already feeling warmer from the exertion. He'd just have to hope his endurance held up until the Snitch appeared out of the gloom.

1 Clark Dill , Seeker Being Protected 277 Clark Dill , Seeker 0 5

Liliana Bannister, Keeper

March 27, 2015 7:06 PM

Me three(ish) by Liliana Bannister, Keeper

Slightly chilly air nipped at Liliana’s nose as she exited the Pecari common room that morning and she burst into a smile—cold weather was what she was used to and even though the Arizona weather was actually kind of balmy compared to the English winters she was used to growing up or the crisp Connecticut weather she’d grown accustomed to over the past four years, she was still glad the sun wasn’t too strong. She detested playing in the heat because she always felt as though she lagged behind the other players, the heavy air causing her eyes to flutter shut and her brain to turn off. Not to mention the sweating—for someone who enjoyed playing sports and had been known to get rather muddy in the rain, Liliana detested sweating. The sickly sweet and salty smell of a changing room and the yellowy brown colour clothes turned if not washed properly…she shuddered just thinking about it and nearly turned around, the thought of sweat in her breakfast (logically the next thought that popped into her head…) causing her to feel all different shades of green. Nevertheless, she forced herself to make her way through the Labyrinth Gardens, her feet crunching over the frosted leaves making her nostalgic for home.

Upon arrival in Cascade Hall she felt her stomach turn again but Liliana forced herself to go in—she was getting too old for pre-game jitters in her opinion but all she could force down was a couple bites of yogurt, a strawberry, and half a cup of tea. Today more than any other day was nerve-wracking. Despite their win over Teppalus the previous semester, they still had not won against Aladren since her first year. Today, as she stepped out on to the field, light fog settling in around them, she glanced up into the stands. Unlike her first game, she was not foolish enough to think her mother might be up in the stands to surprise her—her parents had never made it to a Pecari match in the three years she had been playing for them despite having made several matches back in England when her cousins had been playing for their House teams. She couldn’t help but feel it was gender-biases—even though she knew her father was probably proud of her, Liliana was certain her mother didn’t want a dirty, Quidditch playing daughter but rather someone more delicate with an eye for fashion and a penchant for pouring tea.

Nevertheless, she mounted her broom, mind elsewhere, pondering the differences between herself and Portia Dobson. Did Vètil want someone like that? she wondered. Perhaps she was just something he was amusing himself with until he was old enough to know what he wanted. She’d known some of her cousins to do things like that—Joseph was an exception though sometimes he pretended to have and she was pretty sure Levi hadn’t either unless he was lying around her. Come to think of it, Liliana thought, mind completely out of it now, Vètil and she had never made any promises—it had only been a quick couple week fling over the summer and then that one night at Grandmère’s. And she’d seen him briefly for a hot chocolate when she’d accidently run into him in Paris while Christmas shopping for the Aunts with Grandmère, but nothing had ever been promised. Was she okay with that? Liliana bit her lip. She wasn’t sure—the idea didn’t exactly repulse her, she liked the thought that she didn’t belong to anyone and that she was free to talk to whomever she pleased.

A sudden jolt pulled her out of her thoughts just in time for her to catch herself and keep from falling off her broom. Liliana found herself wishing that it was raining so she might be able to splash some water onto her face but there was no such luck and instead she blinked a few times and allowed herself to take one hand off her broomstick to give herself a quick slap. She wasn’t the type to fawn over the opposite sex—that was Atlas, or, at least, he was the type to fawn over Mary Anne or Ann Marie or whatever Atlas’ ditz liked to call herself. Thinking of that girl always made Liliana nervous—she didn’t trust her, she didn’t know why, but she didn’t trust her. Levi said it was because she was worried that she was going to get replaced but somehow Liliana didn’t think that was the case. Vètil had agreed with Levi, causing a brief spat in which they had both held out for a few hours before a debate was sparked amongst some of Vètil’s friends in which she and Vètil had been on the same side and the earlier argument was forgotten.

Liliana realized she was starting to lose focus again and she gave herself another slap, this time a little harder. The red mark on her left cheek lasted a few seconds and the stinging reminded her to keep her head in the game. Her eyes followed her teammates and the Aladren team members as they flew around the Pitch—from where she was flying the fog was starting to thin out. So far it seemed to be pretty evenly matched, but then again she felt as though in terms of Keepers, Chasers, and Beaters the two teams were pretty evenly matched because whatever skill Annabelle had (and Liliana knew that the Seeker was skilled) Dill matched her in luck. However, Liliana prayed to Yahweh and any other god that there might have been that today the luck might switch sides.

10 Liliana Bannister, Keeper Me three(ish) 274 Liliana Bannister, Keeper 0 5

Jack Spencer, Aladren

March 28, 2015 2:48 PM

Getting a little lost. by Jack Spencer, Aladren

It was his first real match on a real pitch, yet Jack couldn't feel nervous. He knew his hands were trembling and there was an invisible weight on his shoulders, but in the midst of it he felt a strange calm. He liked his team-mates for the most part. They were a bit stiff, but the sort that Jack wanted to get along with. They were what Jack had imagined real American pure-bloods to be like, particularly Carey.

He listened attentively to Carey's speech, his eyes wide to take it all in. Jack had attended the Pecari match last term to watch his brother play, and he knew they were quite good. His cousin had even smashed a bludger right into the captain, a sight that both delighted him and made him cringe. If Jack was ever that unlucky, well, he didn't know exactly what he would do or how he would react. It had been a nasty hit and Jack wanted to avoid that completely.

As they mounted their brooms, the thought of bludgers suddenly became very real and the calm that Jack had been floating through suddenly vanished. He could feel the sleek wood underneath him, the ground as he pushed off to join the Chasers in the air, the roar of flying as Carey snatched the Quaffle first. He could feel the air around him, the fog seemingly getting heavier and heavier and clouding Jack's vision, and suddenly he couldn't help the panic. He was supposed to be brave, not stupid and frightened like a child. His heart was going mad in his chest and his body was getting warm. He'd hardly moved, so he pushed his broom to follow the others towards the Pecari hoops. The sudden fear of a bludger smashing into him jolted him to go faster; he'd rather be a moving target than a sitting duck.

Jack was very much unaware of the Quaffle at the moment and felt disoriented in the fray. He'd done his best during practises, but it was much easier to shoot and pass when there was only his team and no bludgers around to threaten his life. Jack found Carey and rode parallel to him nervously, praying to any deity that Carey would keep the Quaffle and fly the rest of the way to the hoops.

No one must have heard him because suddenly the Quaffle was coming towards him and Jack fumbled as he caught it. He flew forward, knowing now that he was a target for both the Chasers and the Beaters. His clearest thought was to get rid of the Quaffle as soon as possible. However, as he rode, his hand, sweaty from his panic, slipped as he attempted to pass it to another blue-robed Chaser and the pass fell short.

40 Jack Spencer, Aladren Getting a little lost. 299 Jack Spencer, Aladren 0 5

Adam Spencer, Chaser

March 28, 2015 3:03 PM

Let me help you there. by Adam Spencer, Chaser

Adam always felt a bit nervous before every match, but today in particular his stomach refused to settle. They were playing Aladren today which meant that he was going to be facing off against his little brother. Little Jackie was his opponent, a fact Adam had never imagined would happen at school or anywhere else. It struck him with some fear both for his brother's safety and for his own performance in the game. All morning before the match Adam meditated, focused his mind on trivial matters and on breathing techniques, attempting to get his mind away from Jack and onto the match.

It didn't help much.

When Adam joined the others for breakfast and their exercises, he could only imagine the worst-case scenarios for Jack. What if a bludger went and smashed into him? What if he fell off his broom and crashed onto the ground? What if he completely embarrassed himself by doing something absolutely ridiculous like throwing the Quaffle to the wrong team? Adam tried to count his breaths again, hoping some sort of meditation technique would help. He also hoped dearly that Francesca would keep an eye out for his younger brother, but he knew how competitive she was. There was no time for baby-sitting in Quidditch; they each had to hold their own.

Most of Rupert's speech went over the Assistant Captain's head, but when Rup addressed him directly Adam's ears perked up. He was exactly right; Adam needed to focus. Nothing bad was going to happen to Jackie. He just needed to believe that.

Taking deep breaths, Adam looked over at the Aladren team once, making sure that Jack was indeed there, and then followed the rest of his team as the match began. The Quaffle was only slightly difficult to keep track of in the fog, but Carey passed it to Francesca who passed it back to Carey. There was the danger of the bludger and Umland came a bit too close, but luckily it looked as though it went after Annette instead. Adam was more focused on snatching the Quaffle out of someone's grasp than protecting himself from an iron ball. Annette disappeared and suddenly Jack had the Quaffle.

Adam followed his brother closely and narrowed his eyes. Jack looked incredibly nervous, so much so that Adam almost felt sorry for him. But he repeated his mantra: they each had to hold their own. Luckily Jack passed prematurely and Adam quickly picked up the falling Quaffle. He had to make a wider turn than he would have liked, but he successfully turned around and began flying like mad towards the Aladren hoops. The match was beginning to look up and he hoped the dominating Aladrens would be taken aback enough that Adam would disappear nicely into the fog and pass towards one of his own.

Unfortunately, that 'one of his own' wasn't readily available according to Adam's sight, so he flew a straight looking anxiously for a friend. He spotted one then and as he passed her, he surreptitiously handed her the Quaffle before continuing his flight forward. Hopefully that would be distraction enough to separate the attention of the Chasers however momentarily.

0 Adam Spencer, Chaser Let me help you there. 0 Adam Spencer, Chaser 0 5

Annette Pierce, Chaser

March 28, 2015 9:29 PM

Well then, that was unexpected. by Annette Pierce, Chaser

Annette was charging through the fog, not quite sure where the other Chasers were, never mind what they were doing or which team had possession when she suddenly saw them coming right at her. Adam seemed to be leading the way and before she was really quite sure what all had happened, the two senior Pecari Chasers had flown past each other and Annette had the Quaffle. Going the wrong direction.

Abruptly, she did a hairpin turn that resulted in her flying upside down for a moment as she change directions one hundred and eighty degrees (she had found over the years that going straight down, even momentarily, had an excellent ability to increase the speed of such a reverse in direction), then barrel-rolled back upright. Now heading toward the Aladren goals, she pushed her broom for its top speed, and really had no idea in the fog how far she actually made it before she started feeling nervous about holding onto the red leather ball any longer.

She waited for a good opening, not letting nerves force her into passing too soon, then threw the ball to another brown robed Chaser.

The Quaffle sailed neatly through the air, unhindered by the chill that turned her cheeks pink or the fog that plagued visibility. It was a solid pass, Annette felt certain, hoping the scouts had seen it and maybe even considered signing her for half a second. She highly doubted she would even be allowed to play professionally regardless of what they decided about her, but it was a nice thing to think that the scouts might have approved of something she did. In any case, as long as no Aladrens got in the way, she saw no reason why the pass shouldn't be completed so Pecari could continue their run back toward Francesca's brother, and that would be an excellent way for the game to proceed, scouts or no scouts.

0 Annette Pierce, Chaser Well then, that was unexpected. 0 Annette Pierce, Chaser 0 5

Joella Curtis, Chaser

March 29, 2015 10:00 AM

The tables have turned. by Joella Curtis, Chaser

Aladren were a hard team to go up against, Joella knew that much. But such a fact did not make her feel any better about failing to intercept their speedy passes. She tailed Francesca Wolseithcrafte from the moment the older girl received Carey's pass but her concentration had wavered uncertainly as she heard the cracks of bludgers. Perhaps it was a subconscious reaction to Alistair's ugly accident in the last match but she was suddenly so aware of them that she missed another chance of interception. She had been surprised at hearing of John Umland's new position as Beater for the Aladren team but although she hadn't yet seen him, it did not sound like he was keeping quiet.

Feeling as though she were currently playing a game of 'chase-the-Quaffle' rather than actual Quidditch, Joella stuck close to Francesca in the hope that her marking would force Carey into passing to the easier target of Jack Spencer. When the Aladren Captain eventually passed again, Joella wasn't sure whether it was due to the fact that he'd seen her following the only female Aladren player or that Jack Spencer had simply been in the right place at the right time, but she felt as though her plans had worked nonetheless.

The next task of extracting the Quaffle from Aladren possession was completed by Adam as he collected up his brother's short pass and smoothly turned the game around. Annette appeared as if from nowhere and Joella couldn't help but admire her teammates as they headed back up the pitch. Without hanging around to enjoy the show, Joella continued back up the pitch ahead of Annette in the hope of being ready to recieve a pass from her fellow Chaser.

And surely enough it came. It was a neat pass and Joella caught it easily, accelerating towards Theodore Wolseithcrafte at the Aladren hoops which, at the moment, she did not have much view of. She hoped to cover as much distance as possible before she was forced to pass and kept an eye out for Adam to appear again through the mist. It was exciting to have the Quaffle in arm after an unfortunate beginning for her team but Joella reminded herself to keep focussed on the task in hand and not to leave passing so late that it could be easily intercepted by the opposing players.

When a familiar brown robed Chaser emerged out of the corner of her eye Joella relinquished the Quaffle. She gave a fairly powerful throw as they weren't particularly close but once the leather ball left her fingers, there was nothing she could do but hope it didn't fall back into Aladren hands.

8 Joella Curtis, Chaser The tables have turned. 295 Joella Curtis, Chaser 0 5

Clark Dill, Seeker

March 30, 2015 10:15 AM

Being Successful! by Clark Dill, Seeker

Clark wasn't sure if his method was working. It seemed like he'd been flying up and down, side to side, and back and forth for a long while. Of course, time was nearly as difficult as distance to judge in the almost isolated bubble he occupied in the fog. He was kind of glad Leonidas was keeping close, or he might have started thinking he was all alone on the pitch. Sure he could hear the crowds, and the crack of bludgers, and even a few shouts from the other players, but he couldn't really see anything except fog, Leo, and occasionally the Pitch walls and spectator stands when he ventured close enough to the edges to recognize that it was time to turn around again.

Then, just as he was starting to think maybe the strategy was faulty and he should just find Annabelle somehow and see what she was doing, he saw it. A shimmer of gold, right at the edge of his vision. He turned abruptly, not bothering to hide his discovery since, logically, Annabelle should not be able to see him any better than he could see her, where ever she might be. He flew toward the golden flash, and as he drew closer, he could make out more definitely that it was the Snitch. A bright grin spread across his face and he pushed his school broom forward, not wanting to loose it to the fog again just because he took too long reaching it.

Clark's hand reached out and his fingers closed around the small ball, the wings fluttering against his skin as he held it aloft, flying toward the stands with it held aloft so the spectators could at least see something this game. "I caught it!" he yelled out, too, in case the fog had prevented the coach from noticing.

1 Clark Dill, Seeker Being Successful! 277 Clark Dill, Seeker 0 5

Coach Olivers

March 30, 2015 7:36 PM

Aladren wins! 150 - 0 (nm) by Coach Olivers

0 Coach Olivers Aladren wins! 150 - 0 (nm) 0 Coach Olivers 0 5

Coach Olivers

Quidditch Game II: Aladren vs. Pecari by Coach Olivers

<font color="blue">Captain Anthony Carey</font>

Getting started by <font color="blue">Captain Anthony Carey</font>

<font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font>

Being protective by <font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font>

<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>

Keeping my thoughts to myself by <font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>

<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>

Likewise. by <font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>

<font color=tan>Captain Princeton, Beater</font>

Don't mind me. by <font color=tan>Captain Princeton, Beater</font>

<font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>

Full of energy. by <font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>

You're kind of hard to miss. by <font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>

<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>

Some Beaters are more easily missed than others by <font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">Anthony Carey, Chaser</font>

I like the ones who miss whenever they aim at me by <font color="blue">Anthony Carey, Chaser</font>

<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>

Flying in a fog by <font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>

<font color=tan>Annabelle Pierce, Seeker</font>

Me, too. by <font color=tan>Annabelle Pierce, Seeker</font>

<font color=blue>Clark Dill , Seeker</font>

Being Protected by <font color=blue>Clark Dill , Seeker</font>

<font color='tan'>Liliana Bannister, Keeper</font>

Me three(ish) by <font color='tan'>Liliana Bannister, Keeper</font>

<font color=blue>Jack Spencer, Aladren</font>

Getting a little lost. by <font color=blue>Jack Spencer, Aladren</font>

<font color=tan>Adam Spencer, Chaser</font>

Let me help you there. by <font color=tan>Adam Spencer, Chaser</font>

<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>

Well then, that was unexpected. by <font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>

<font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>

The tables have turned. by <font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>

<font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

Being Successful! by <font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

Coach Olivers

Aladren wins! 150 - 0 (nm) by Coach Olivers