Quidditch Durmstrang vs. Ilvermorny-Beauxbatons - Summer 2024

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Date: August 3rd, 2024	Word Count: 116/50	Outfit: Reducio An Ilvermorny Quidditch robe.

I smiled as I sat down at the bench, glad I wasn't in the air yet. Even though I hated all things wizard, Quidditch was something entirely else for me. I loved the feeling of flying and zooming around on a broom. During practice I had even caught the snitch a few times. But nevertheless, I was still nervous to be up there with an audience. Kaya was going to do a great job and hopefully not fall of her broom or anything horrible like that. I really didn't want to have to go up there. For now, I could just cheer my team on and be happy to have both feet planted on the ground.

Stats: Stamina 7| Evasion 7| Strength 3| Wisdom 6| Arcane Power 5| Accuracy 7
Abilities: The Muggle Condition
Broom: Nimbus 1001

Made by @Aurora Ranvier

Greta Fransson @Evelynn Decipio

T'was the day! Theo had practically jumped out of bed this morning and not missed the chance to sneak into various tents to enthusiastically wake up his teammates (feel free to claim you were woken up by a very enthusiastic Theo, if you want XD). The Thunderbird had been really the most excited for this, the chance to compete with another school in Quidditch again. He had a brand new broom that- after a moment of hesitation- sported the blue ribbon that had been on his Firebolt before and couldn't wait to kick off.

After breakfast, Theo went straight to the Quidditch pitch and took off once the rest of his team arrived. Ahh, he'd missed it a bit, being in the air, the weight of the bat, the adrenaline. After only a few moments he found himself being circled by her, nudging him when she came to a halt. "We haven't." He would have been happier, had the previous night never happened. "Well, we shall see about that!" It was his turn to nudge her with his bat, but his smile was visibly not as wide as usual. "With a bit of luck..." His free hand brushed against the ribbon, surely she remembered giving it to him too.

He wouldn't tell her that she was right. If she fell, he would be the first to try and catch her.
Suddenly Theo saw his chance slip away. The few seconds he had to talk to her now were shrinking away and he just blurted out. "We should- we should do something together this camp. If you win, you can decide, if I win, I do?"

Beater | Action: Doing as strategized
Sta 10 | Eva (15+4) 19 | Str 10 | Wis 8 | Arc 9 | Acc (17+4) 21
Calming Presence | The Muggle Condition | Blindvision | Savior | Broken Broomshaft | Evasive Maneuvers
Broom: Oakshaft 79 (+4 to two stats (Acc and Eva))

Reducio

• In the role of Beater, if you hit an opponent with a bludger the bludger will then ricochet off that user and target a second opponent of choice (must be declared, if not declared the target will be random and can be an ally but not yourself).
• In the role of Beater, if an ALLY dodges a bludger during the round, there is a 20% chance that you catch that bludger with your bat and you send it at a RANDOM enemy target.
• In the role of Beater, if you critically hit with a bludger, instead of doing double-damage you do 2.5x damage. If you critically fail with your bludger attempt to hit, rather than having your bludger randomly target another user (including yourself or an ally) the bludger cannot target you on a critical fail (but it can still target your allies). On a re-target, there is a random roll for target and then a fresh accuracy roll.

Semyon walked out with the team, a firebolt by his side and a lucky charm dangling around his neck, a wooden carving from his first proper days at school. His gaze taking in what was around him, while switching between focus and non-focus. He stood beside the team as Valentin began to talk, a boy who would not overlook the bunch Gladiolus flower tied and nestled between the bristles of the Firebolt he carried. Semyon had taken the time to pick them in the morning within the tent, working carefully and precise as he worked them between the bristles, in a way that would not destroy the brooms aerodynamic or would cause the very next gust of wind to blow his work away.

His gaze shifted to each student named, listening intently to what Valentin had to say about them, while his gaze stared through them, with little life or emotion. He wondered, perhaps, how that growth had happened that Valentin was talking about. Though Semyon did not care to care about them, he found it vaguely interesting to know of them. Enough at least, to make him know their strengths and weaknesses on the field, if he were to fly with them for another few years, or wherever his dragonfly wings would carry him. A dragonfly would be aware, nature, would be aware, so must he. He must be aware so others could be unaware of his being, his presence and just let him breathe as he soared.

It was only when the Seeker spoke of him... to him, that his gaze pierced that of the white haired boy, his own eyes, muddy yet special in the way that one eye colored green on the right side, looked through the purple, no amethyst colored ones, while accepting the words. The eye contact did last a mere second, before he focused on a space nearby, watching the goal hoops up top.

“Dear Senya, today you sit atop a quiet perch, but this is not because we have no need of you. No, from this distance I want you to observe, to learn, for to succeed in a hunt one must first know how to watch. Only so will you know how to chase down your prey, and when is the right moment to strike. Please take every moment here as an important foundation for your future, and stay ever ready. We may need you beside us sooner than anyone expects.” The captain spoke, not expecting a response and he received none. No sign that he was heard or understood came from the young one. Valentin would have to trust it was received, but truly by now he would have to be used to that, and if not, perhaps Semyon had misjudged the other.

When Valentin finished up his speech, Semyon returned his focus to the boy. He held his fist close to his mouth, ring and middle finger curled over his palm with the thumb nestled almost against the bridge of his nose, as pointer and pinky finger stretched away from the fist and with one swift movement and his gaze on the seeker, he pushed the half fist away from his face into an open handed gesture, showing his palm¹. With everything said, he began to move toward the bench he would possibly remain on for the entire game, therefore it was crucial he found a spot that allowed good sights. It was then that he accepted the silver fir sprig and gave the captain a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement.

It was on the bench he found a seat next to a girl, Astrid, but his gaze was trained onto the sky as his fingers clasped around the handle of his broom, ready to jump into action if the necessity arrived and 'Hanya' fell. With him on the bench, he also was aware of Romeo's and Felix' presence, they too were acknowledged only silently as the Russian stared toward the cloud covered blue above them.

STATS - BROOM
Sta 5 | Eva 10 | Str 0 | Wis 10 | Arc 0 | Acc 10 (14) - Firebolt

Reducio

In the role of Keeper when you attempt to block your goal, if your opponent somehow has advantage on attempting to score a goal, that is negated (they only have their normal single roll against you).

In the role of Keeper a critical success on an attempt to block a goal not only means that the Keeper caught the quaffle but they have also successfully passed the quaffle (without a chance of interception) to an allied target of their choice. A critical failure in this case cannot happen for a Keeper, they get to re-roll the attempt to block.

Note: Critical failure and critical success chances can be expanded with certain abilities and skills

Abilities - Position
Impartial - 2nd String Keeper

¹ Russian Sign Language - "Glory"

ROLEPLAYING AS ALARIC HAVERTZ

Alaric was pumped, he loved playing with his team (even if Slav was on it). It was what calmed his brain, what made him feel alive and wanted. Of course, he wasn’t exactly as good as his peers (he wasn’t that much of a fool) but it still gave him a boost.

The feeling of walking out to see all the people watching them and cheering them on was more of a thrill than waving your wand and mumbling words.

It was on.

Abilities Perfectionist 1 & 2 Evasive Maneuvers Muggle Condition Sta 10 (13) °▪ Eva 13 (16) °▪ Str 8 (11)°▪︎

Action Doing As Strategized Silver Arrow (+3 to all stats – already added below) His Ency English || Russian Wis 11 (14)°▪ Arc 5 (8)°▪ Acc 8 (14)°▪︎

Today was the day. Stephen officially moved from Ilvermorny’s Broom Racing team and onto their Quidditch team. He wasn’t nervous so much as he was resigned. He shouldn’t be here, but he had to be here. Honor dictated as much. He had learned an invaluable lesson in the process – you don’t ever risk that which you are not truly willing to lose. And because he was so foolhardy, a silly bet made with Miles ended with him on the losing end of things and coming face to face with a hard, but necessary, lesson. The stakes? If Miles won, Stephen would give up Broom Racing and join the Quidditch team. If Stephen won, Miles would say goodbye to Quidditch and join him on the Broom Racing team. As he was now standing with his teammates in the middle of London’s famed Quidditch Stadium, feeling his sternum thrum from the uproarious cheers from the stands, it was clear this was going to be very different from his international forays with Broom Racing. Those crowds were sizeable, but nothing like this.

Still, he would be flying and honing skills, hoping to anyway, and that was going to have to be enough. He had never competed against Durmstrang, in anything, other than an allegedly friendly game of Prank Wars gone wrong. They seemed to live for brutality. It was, sadly, not an isolated impression given his other interactions with every single person he had met from their school, but he had had enough interactions with this Durmstrang gang, as he had come to think of them, to know this was going to be a hard fought battle. No one had necessarily spoken of it aloud, as there was no purpose in stating the obvious, but Ilvermorny was clearly the underdog here. That was not troublesome to the laid back California beach kid. What was troublesome was what he perceived to be a lack of sportsmanship and honor from their team, but even Stephen was willing to be proven wrong. He would love to be proven wrong on this. Time would tell.

He snapped out of his thoughts and smiled and high fived his teammates before giving one last look over his broom, ensuring it passed flight inspection. It did. There was an unknown team mate amongst them, a first year by the look of it, or maybe a newly minted second year, from Beauxbatons. Stephen smiled at her glee and her enthusiasm and especially her good sportsmanlike behavior. He had always been taught to acknowledge and wish your opponents good luck, just as she had done. So, given the train of thoughts he had just ridden into the train station of his mind, his blood boiled and his ire grew at the unnecessary sleight tossed with such venom at the young girl by an older student.

And yet again, his beliefs on Durmstrang’s inability to be the least bit human to anyone outside of their gang were, once again, reinforced. He quickly walked over to the girl and sat next to her on the bench, still looking his broom over, but it was only being used as a prop to more easily open conversation with her as he had determined a few minutes earlier it was flight worthy. “Big, exciting day isn’t it?” and his voice was friendly as he continued to keep his eyes on the broom shaft, moving his fingers along its smooth exterior. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. This is my first Quidditch match ever. Well, my first official match, I should say. Of course I've attended practices and scrimmages. I used to be a broom racer, so I know a thing or two about flying, but the sports are very different. I’m excited, like you, but a little nervous if truth be told,” and then he turned the broom around to fidget with the brush as he continued.

“I saw and heard what you did with our opponents, and I just want to tell you, that no matter how this all turns out today, that will be a core memory for me of this day and this match. Brava, you!” and for the first time, he turned to look her in the eyes as all pretense of inspection on his broom was dropped. “No one knows for certain how this match will end, not even Durmstrang, but even if they win the match, you won the day. You were a bigger person. You remember that, because I will. And remember this as well: his candle, nor anyone else’s, is going to burn any brighter by snuffing – or trying to snuff – yours out. You keep holding your head high and you continue to wish good on the people around you, especially your opponents. The world needs it. Even they need it,” and he tilted his head in Durmstrang’s direction, “whether they admit it or not.”

Then he abruptly stood, needing to join the team getting into position. “My name’s Stephen, by the way. I’d really like to know yours when this is all over, assuming I’m still conscious,” and he smiled even wider as he winked and then headed towards the field, passing the benched Durmstrang players. He recognized Astrid and Felix and he so badly wanted to keep going, but given all the speechifying he had just done, he couldn’t, so he nodded in their direction and wished them and their team good luck. And surprisingly, as he was doing it, he found he really meant it.

Happily, he took to the skies to join his buddies, Louca and Amber, and that brought even more happiness. “Let’s have some fun!”

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@Simon Kincaid as Miles Thatcher @Mylo Atkins as Jamie Carville and @Pericles Dralt as Madhup Hexum

threading as Johannes Sauer
speaking in russian unless specified

Camped outside of the London Quidditch Stadium like concertgoers aiming to seize their favourite pieces of merch, the Durmstrang team had been working towards this very moment all year. Summer camp had simply been the (surprisingly eventful) side quest to proving their worth on the international stage. Here, finally gathering their wits within the expansive foyer, was where war was planned.

It was certainly not the place for foreign interlopers to encroach on their territory approach the preparing team. Rather fitting for their #9's swift bee-like moniker, Mad was first to take care of it before anything else happened. Good on him. If the other team believed Madhup's remark to be macabre, they wouldn't believe the violence even their most delightful members could inflict. Ilvermorny-Beauxbatons' sentiment was sweet enough— very fitting for every international school except for their own— but it was a bit twee considering their semi-accidental bad manners. One must be naive to think that Durmstrang would settle for a just 'good' match. They had all trained (and accidentally trauma-bonded) far too much to do anything but their absolute best. Mark his words, they'd give London the best damn junior game the city could see without tickets to the next Quidditch World Cup!

A team couldn't make it far without their brilliant captains, however. Bards everywhere must have rejoiced when the adventurous life called for Valentin, for the other certainly had the makings of a sincere poet. With Romeo practically down for the count except to act as second-string, the team was subject to only one monologuing pep-talk. Tailored to each player and just as inspiringly exposing as ever, the great expectation of worth seemed to burn a hand-shaped hole through Johannes' padded armour.

If it were up to him, neither of their captains would be up and running, least of all for a high-flying snitch... Unfortunately for his unqualified opinion, however, Durmstrang still needed their strategic, moral support geniuses on the field. His only saving grace was how good the weather was today, for Durmstrang’s DIY sickbay needed its patients back and those slow Quidditch paramedics didn’t know the visual urgency of body horror. (Granted, Durmstrang was simultaneously also likely the least qualified school to provide bedside manner but it was the thought that counted.) If either of their captains wanted, he'd even be willing to sneak out of summer camp to get supplies or snacks. It would be an adventure! (Except for the Galleons-to-Euros-to-pounds situation. Why Euros? Because he was most familiar with them and wanted usable pocket money. Either way, currency exchange would be the least fun aspect.) Shoving his silly sheltered pureblood friends into a random grocery store would be so much more productive than trying to forget why they were quarantining the two. The unnaturally sweet, marshmallow-mixed-syrup fragrance of those damnable leeches seemed to follow his memories even now, at odds with the familiar composures of their once-afflicted Kapitäne.

As the praise turned to Alaric, Johannes stubbornly avoided Valentin's accusing stare, fiddling with the buckles of his elaborate keeper gloves to hold the peace. In truth, the only thing he regretted about his behaviour with the young beater was their captain's knowledge of it. He and Slava had been justified— Slava in his righteous outrage and Johannes himself in worthy defence. They just hadn’t been as meticulous about hiding it as they'd thought. Without the looming threat of retaliation, why would they? His sparkly best friend may have had some moral qualms over the matter but Johannes had been raised in the art of retribution since the beginning of his academic career. In his humble opinion, their upstart underclassmen served perfectly as examples of the chaos Durmstrang sought to cultivate in the international sphere. The shoots of foreign weakness had no place amidst the snow, no matter how artificial it was.

Nowhere near as generous with his favour as their star seeker or chaser lineup, the Hellhound gave little attention to the hybridized enemy team as he took his place at the hoops. His obligatory complaints (and they truly were obligatory) could wait until the match was actually underway. Even so, any of Johannes' little victims in the stands could have the pleasure of being subject to a very direct throat-slashing taunt if seen. Much to his eternal disappointment, it seemed that neither Plott nor Stribog would be joining them for the summer match. An unfortunately lacking (thankfully tame) combination of inaudible support but certainly not one that discouraged Durmstrang's typical brutality. Amidst the fleet of Durmstrang red and nervous excitement, clever observers could glimpse a new addition to his quidditch uniform— a flash of neon yellow at the base of his neck, unhidden by the shadows of Durmstrang's usual poor weather.

Yet despite his relatively decent mood, there was something exceedingly bittersweet to the whole affair. Since the international teams only played once a year, every second of strategy counted. The brilliant moment of success simply led to the next long wait. Johannes was not yet an eighth year but the mysterious threat of graduation loomed over him regardless. This was his last true game with the Quidditch team. How quickly would these friends find their differences without the same snow-laden stone walls? Would he see them all again in two, five, ten years? Or would they drift apart as swiftly as they had once been gathered? It was almost insulting for his last game to be played in good weather when every other had been a fight towards Stribog himself.

The future remained existentially unknown and yet already partially decided. He’d given both his life and faith to the Hellhound Pack, yet his heart had somehow ventured astray. It would have been much easier had he rejected Yefim's help so many years ago, when the largest threat to his Pack position was the exchange of powers. If he had never met Charles when his Kapitäne had aimed to poach him from the racing team... Yet the awe-inspiring ambition of their former Champion had blinded him to his own future. If alternate universes existed between the Horntail experience, he had certainly chosen the most interesting one to spend his life with.

Curse those lightning storms! Curse the patches, the piercings and the pain of tireless belief! Most of all, curse Valentin for being so needlessly concerned. 'Show me something new'...? What else was new about him? His faith may have been split but his loyalty had never faltered. Johannes was not nearly as creative as Valentin believed him to be— only forcibly adaptable. Change was inevitable, yet he seemed as if he’d always been repurposing the same old material. Between the gym chalk and dinner plates, the international team will outgrow him just as everyone else had. There were only so many tricks to teach, only so many years left to waste.

If this match was simply the catalyst for the beginning of the end, Johannes intended to go out with a bang— to take this care by the throat and selfishly keep it, heedless of the ensuing collateral damage.

Action: As Strategized.

Mod Information

Reducio

Statistics: Sta: 10 | Eva: 17 | Str: 10 | Wisdom: 9 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 18
Broom-Modified Statistics: Sta: 10 | Eva: 21 | Str: 10 | Wisdom: 9 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 22

Abilities: Foulplay, Charmer, Evasive Maneuvers, Rapid Reviver, Blindvision, Wandmaker, Lovely Creature
Charmer Opponents: Ilvermorny-Beauxbatons

Broom Information: Oakshaft 79 (+4 to Eva and Acc)

Reducio

• In the role of Keeper when you attempt to block your goal, if your opponent somehow has advantage on attempting to score a goal, that is negated (they only have their normal single roll against you).
• In the role of Keeper a critical success on an attempt to block a goal not only means that the Keeper caught the quaffle but they have also successfully passed the quaffle (without a chance of interception) to an allied target of their choice. A critical failure in this case cannot happen for a Keeper, they get to re-roll the attempt to block.
• In the role of Keeper, if the Keeper effectively blocks an attempt to score rather than obtain possession of the quaffle they can kick the quaffle at the user who attempted to score. This must be declared at the time actions are submitted. This would have damage like a bludger using an accuracy roll to hit and the user's strength score to determine the amount of damage done. If the quaffle hits or misses the target, a quafflegrab the next round would be necessary to determine which team has possession of the quaffle again.

Roleplaying as Phylicia Stanwood
Interactions: Ilvermorny team

Quidditch game mornings were always early mornings, but this one especially, because she'd woken up to Theo running into her tent. Phyllis could not complain because he was completely matching her energy once hers kicked in about a minute later. It was game day, and there were not many things that topped game day. National Ice Cream Day, maybe, which was a weird but fantastic thing to have as a holiday. Or the first day of school, where she got to see all her friends again after being separated for most of the summer. But overall this was hard to beat: the nerves, the hype, the pre-flight itch to kick off into the skies.

It was a beautiful day in the London Quidditch Stadium, and she was surrounded by teammates, many of them friends after so much practice and camaraderie and even the odd Hexiwizard Tournament. Today they were up against the daunting Durmstrang team, but if you looked at it the right way, that was a good thing; they only got to play their international competition like this once a year, so they might as well know how they matched up against some of the best.

"We've got this!" she said to her teammates, all easy confidence, and she fist-bumped whoever wanted one. "Fly hard, remember the stuff we've practiced, and have fun. Just look at the stadium we're in!" This was mostly for the younger members of the team, the ones more likely to be nervous or put off by the scale of this, but who couldn't use the reminder? They were still kids, not professionals yet, so their only job today was to just play some Quidditch.

Action: Doing as strategized
Stats: STA: 16 • EVA: 13 • STR: 13 • WIS: 12 • ARC: 5 • ACC: 20
Abilities: Calming Presence • Fearless • Statistically Relevant [+2 Stamina] • Savior • Wandmaker [Snallygaster Heartstring | Dogwood | 33 cm | Quite Flexible] • Keeper's Catch • Apparition
Broom: Silver Arrow (+3 to all stats)