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 <font color="blue">Captain Anthony Carey</font> with <font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>, <font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>
Being protective by <font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font> with <font color=blue>Clark Dill , Seeker</font>, Coach Olivers
Keeping my thoughts to myself by <font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font> with <font color=tan>Annabelle Pierce, Seeker</font>, <font color='tan'>Liliana Bannister, Keeper</font>
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Coach Olivers
Quidditch Game II: Aladren vs. Pecari
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Coach Olivers
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<font color=tan>Captain Princeton, Beater</font>
March 19, 2015 5:23 PM
Don't mind me. by <font color=tan>Captain Princeton, Beater</font>
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.
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<font color=tan>Captain Princeton, Beater</font>
Don't mind me.
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<font color=tan>Captain Princeton, Beater</font>
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<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>
March 20, 2015 2:59 PM
You're kind of hard to miss. by <font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>
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.
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<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>
You're kind of hard to miss.
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<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
March 24, 2015 10:06 AM
Some Beaters are more easily missed than others by <font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
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.
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
Some Beaters are more easily missed than others
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
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<font color="blue">Anthony Carey, Chaser</font>
March 25, 2015 8:28 PM
I like the ones who miss whenever they aim at me by <font color="blue">Anthony Carey, Chaser</font>
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.
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<font color="blue">Anthony Carey, Chaser</font>
I like the ones who miss whenever they aim at me
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<font color="blue">Anthony Carey, Chaser</font>
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<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
March 26, 2015 3:56 PM
Flying in a fog by <font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
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.
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<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
Flying in a fog
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<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
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<font color=blue>Jack Spencer, Aladren</font>
March 28, 2015 2:48 PM
Getting a little lost. by <font color=blue>Jack Spencer, Aladren</font>
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.
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<font color=blue>Jack Spencer, Aladren</font>
Getting a little lost.
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<font color=blue>Jack Spencer, Aladren</font>
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<font color=tan>Adam Spencer, Chaser</font>
March 28, 2015 3:03 PM
Let me help you there. by <font color=tan>Adam Spencer, Chaser</font>
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.
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<font color=tan>Adam Spencer, Chaser</font>
Let me help you there.
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<font color=tan>Adam Spencer, Chaser</font>
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<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
March 28, 2015 9:29 PM
Well then, that was unexpected. by <font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
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.
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<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
Well then, that was unexpected.
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<font color=tan>Annette Pierce, Chaser</font>
0
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<font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>
March 29, 2015 10:00 AM
The tables have turned. by <font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>
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.
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<font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>
The tables have turned.
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<font color='tan'>Joella Curtis, Chaser</font>
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