Quidditch Club: Match 2

Match Two

Saturday, 15 March 1924
2:00 pm
The Quidditch Pitch

The thaw had come in overnight, and the pitch was paying for it. Winter’s last stubborn patches of snow clung to the shadow of the eastern stands while everywhere else the grass had turned to churned mud, dark and sucking at every boot that dared cross it. The wind was sleet-edged, carrying the smell of the lake and snapping the banners hard enough to make the poles groan.

Above, the sky couldn’t make up its mind. Great ragged banks of cloud tore past, pulling apart now and then to let a thin, bright sun fall across the stands before the gap knitted shut again and the light vanished. Every few minutes a squall of half-frozen rain swept down the length of the pitch, rattled off the stands, and moved on, leaving cloaks damp and hoods pulled low in its wake. No one in the crowd seemed ready to give up their seats for it.

It seemed the school had missed the sport more than it admitted; the stands were fuller than anyone had expected for a cold Saturday in March. Down on the pitch, the two teams had gathered near the center circle, brooms in hand, the Basilisks and Acromantulas standing close enough to size each other up. The Basilisks had taken the first match, and a few of the Acromantulas looked like they’d been counting down the days until they could get their revenge.

Striding out to meet them, whistle looped around one gloved hand, came Professor Roisin Blackwood. The Hufflepuff Head of House had swapped her classroom robes for something heavier and thoroughly waterproof, though the wind still made an attempt at her hair the moment she cleared the tunnel. She paused halfway across the mud to wave at her husband and daughter in the stands, then her expression sharpened as she reached the center circle.

“Right,” she called, her voice amplified with Sonorus. “You all know the rules. Keep it clean, no hexes and no jinxes, and keep your Bludgers off anyone who isn’t playing. I’d rather not stop this match, so don’t make me.”

She let her gaze travel along both lines. “The pitch is a mess, so mind your landings. Good luck, all of you.”

Rose knelt beside the case set in the center of the circle and unstrapped the Bludgers, which shot free and tore off toward opposite ends of the pitch. The Snitch came next, hovering just long enough to catch a stray gleam of sun before it streaked off and was gone.

She rose with the Quaffle in one hand and, in a single motion, hurled it skyward and brought the whistle to her lips.

The shriek cut through the wind, and the pitch erupted. Boots left the mud as fourteen players kicked into the air together, the Basilisks peeling toward the eastern hoops, the Acromantulas toward the west, and Rose rising to meet the game somewhere above center pitch.

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Round One

The Quaffle has barely left Roisin’s hand before the Basilisks have it. Brooks reaches it first* and hauls it in against his chest, mud-spattered wind already tearing at his sleeves. Behind him the Acromantulas are scrambling to close the gap, and the Basilisks’ eastern hoops are still a long way off. Both Bludgers are loose and veering in the crosswind, giving the Beaters on each side plenty to track. High above the fray, the Snitch makes one bright pass around the pitch before vanishing into the clouds, leaving both Seekers in an impossible search ahead.

The match has begun.

*Quaffle possession was rolled: 1 (Basilisks), then which Chaser took possession: 2 (Brooks).

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OOC: Welcome to Quidditch Match 2!

Some notes:

• Beaters: For this match, please refer to each Bludger as Bludger One or Bludger Two.
  
• Chasers: Chasers may hold the Quaffle for one round; on your next post with possession, you must pass or attempt to score.
  
• Match 1 has been graded. If you did not post three times in the last one, you must post three times in this one to pass. If you need more points, now is the time to add some practice threads to the mix!
  
• Remember, you have a higher chance of success if you write at least 16 sentences. This count does not include quoted words from other players.
  
• Please give the newly updated Guide to Quidditch Matches a once-over.

Remember to bold your attempted action. When I update, I will roll your success or failure and include the result. Not sure what to write? The guide now has ideas by position. These actions will be rolled for NPCs as well.

Rosters & Badges (NPC INFO)

THE BASILISKS
Chaser — Brooks Garren
Chaser — Lovelace Durand
Chaser — Serik Zdravkova (NPC)
Beater — Benji Laurence
Beater — Ruth Elliot
Keeper — Robert Goldburg (NPC)
Seeker — Edwin Mohler (NPC)

Code: 

[div style="max-width:280px;margin:0 auto 16px;background:#0a0a0d;border:1px solid #97540a;border-radius:4px;overflow:hidden;"] [div style="padding:14px;text-align:center;"] [div style="font-family:'Braven',serif;font-size:19px;letter-spacing:1px;color:#e0e0dd;text-transform:uppercase;"]The Basilisks[/div] [div style="height:1px;background:#97540a;margin:8px auto;width:50px;"][/div] [div style="font-family:'Josefin Sans',sans-serif;font-size:11px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;color:#a76e2f;"]Position[/div] [/div] [/div]

THE ACROMANTULAS
Chaser — Morgan Barlowe
Chaser — Conor Furlong (NPC)
Chaser — Gruffudd Pryce
Beater — Tulip Asquith
Beater — Reyna Durand
Keeper — Elowen Blackwood (NPC)
Seeker — Maevie Golding

Code: 

[div style="max-width:280px;margin:0 auto 16px;background:#0a0a0d;border:1px solid #97540a;border-radius:4px;overflow:hidden;"] [div style="padding:14px;text-align:center;"] [div style="font-family:'Braven',serif;font-size:19px;letter-spacing:1px;color:#e0e0dd;text-transform:uppercase;"]The Acromantulas[/div] [div style="height:1px;background:#97540a;margin:8px auto;width:50px;"][/div] [div style="font-family:'Josefin Sans',sans-serif;font-size:11px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;color:#a76e2f;"]Position[/div] [/div] [/div]

This match will go for five rounds. I will update around this time the day after tomorrow (29 October), so get your posts in!

The Basilisks

CHASER

Barely a minute onto the pitch and he was already cold and wet. The thaw had turned the ground into a swamp, boots sinking with every step as sleet stung his skin. Thank Merlin for dragon hide gloves. At least he could still feel his fingers.

The whistle blew.

Brooks was airborne before he even registered moving.

Instinct took over, years of flying carrying him toward the Quaffle. His fingers wrapped around the ball almost the instant it left Professor Blackwood's hand.

"Thank you kindly." He called back in the wind. He was off.

He tucked the Quaffle securely against his ribs as he climbed away from the ground. The wind snapped at his robes, hair whipping across his forehead, but he barely noticed. This was the part he loved. The cold air filled his lungs. The broom answered every shift of his weight.

Quaffle in hand. Not a bad way to start.
His blue eyes swept across the pitch, not looking for the hoops yet but for where his opponents were headed. Morgan, Gruffudd, Conor, what were their intentions? Then his own teammates. Lovelace. Serik. Everyone was still settling into position.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Rather than charge toward the hoops, Brooks accelerated up the middle. He dipped left, then snapped back right, never keeping a straight line long enough for anyone to catch him. Always keeping an eye out for his teammates that might be open and ready for him to pass.

Brooks zigzagged his way down the center of the pitch, attempting to draw the Acromantulas toward him before committing to whichever lane they left exposed.