GAME! Tarantallegra Tag Fin

Success! It would appear that the divines were smiling upon the little metamorph. Her third year peer would be getting the luck of the Hufflepuff lass; for not even a light fizzled from his Cherry wood wand. She was quite surprised that her spell hit, considering she had not had good luck with spells in the past, especially during the last S.W.A.G game. But, she played off her surprise, as if she had expected success of the spell from the beginning. Her victim- the third year Gryffindor boy, broke out into a horrid tap dance.

The lioness was quite open to all forms of art, and self expression. Except for tap dancing. Tap dancing was a blight upon the surface of the world of dance. No one wanted to listen to the inconsistent, and tasteless rhythm- or rather, lack of rhythm that was produced by some hooligan stomping around. Mind you these thoughts came from someone who sought beauty in the dark, ugly, and twisted things; so her unvoiced opinion was quite valid.

The expression of triumph morphed into something of mild disgust, and discomfort. It was an expression that clearly said: Please, make it stop. Her slotted pupils shrank at the sound, and sight, of her fellow Gryffindors dreadful pattering, across the grass. She couldn't bear to watch him. So she turned turned swiftly in another direction, only to witness... well, she wasn't too sure what sort of dancing she was witnessing from the Hufflepuff boy; who fell victim to Pericles well cast Tarantallegra. But she would take that, over the dancing of the Gryffindor boy.

She blinked dumbly at the strawberry-blonde boy, unsure at first if he was dancing, or just having a violent fit. She figured that it was not her problem, and refocused on the current game at play. Two opponents down, two more two go. It would have made sense to target Pericles at this point in the game, but the lioness felt, that it would be smarter to try and eliminate the flaxen-haired girl instead; since the blonde was already the target of her Ravenclaw friend.

So, thats exactly what the lioness did- be it brilliant or not. Really, it just sounded like the logical thing to do in that moment. Leave it to her, to be the one that kills one bird with two stones. Running towards the back of the Hufflepuff, the metamorph would once again shout the incantation: "Tarantallegra!"

Interacting with @Pericles Dralt @Xailah Alptraum

Truly this was sabotage.

She barely had a moment to laugh at Alan's tap dancing, which was truly awful. Not that she was really a dancer herself but tap dancing needed rhythm and Tarantallegra did not give it to him. Surveying the battle field she saw Donald had been struck as well and was swing dancing just about as well as Alan was tap dancing. Suddenly she was worried about what type of dance the spell would have her entranced into doing. She really wasn't a dancer at all, but there was no time to be worried about that. She was somehow still in the game.

Willow heard Pericles shouting out the spell and turned to see who it was aimed at and it was her! Then Xailah joining in? It was two against one and she hadn't even attacked either of them! A small pout came over her face as she attempted to dodge the terrifying prospect of dancing in front of people. She had really taken a defensive stance since the start of the game, but she didn't have much opportunity to attack. She told herself that if she lasted after this, no matter what she needed to attack. She had to show up and out for her house after all.

Action: Dodging the cruel dual attack.

ACTION: Dance with lack off Grace

The third year had not expected him to be out as one of the first and assumed he would have underestimated the attack of Xailah, a fellow metamorphmagi as it seemed just that she would not know of him being one as well. As soon as the spell hit him in the sides, his legs began to kick and hit the floor without any rhythm or feel for the beat; or lack of it. It was truly a pitiful sight that made pearls of sweat cling to his forehead as he struggled to fight off the effects of the spell while laughing at his hilarious representation of what he assumed was supposed to be a tap dance.

As soon as the effect stopped, Alan wheezed trying to catch his breath as the laughter and mirth dwelling in his eyes ebbed down. Finally he made his way to the picnic blanket and dropped down to sit on it, his gaze shifted to Donald who had been hit by the spell as well. "C-Care to j-join me here?", he wondered with a small stutter accompanying his voice as he grinned cheerfully at the Hufflepuff. Once he did so, his gaze shifted to the players still in the game and hoped that Willow would be able to dodge the oncoming attacks, silently cheering for his friend - even though she had betrayed him earlier in the game without batting an eyelash. But he knew it had been all in fun and games, but he still was on her side even though her chances were slim. Dodging not only one but two spells shot her way.

Another successful spell was cast by the Gryffindor! This was an exciting moment for her, because this meant one of two things: She was improving, or she had an outrageous amount of dumb luck. She had expected Pericles to hit the Hufflepuff instead, but it would appear that his aim was slightly off. Or maybe his intentions were to actually try and make Schrödinger dance. Who knew? The spell whizzed by the young badger, and hit the ground next to the large, grey cat. That was dangerously close. Schrödingers reaction was a slightly delayed one, as he sluggishly jumped out of the way only five seconds after the spell hit. The little ball of lard, and fur, seemed relieved as he rolled over- belly up, and in a dramatic fashion.

And then there was two... "If your goal was to make Schrödinger dance, I would say you almost hit your target." She cackled. "Dralt." A grin cracked across her porcelain skin. "I hope you are ready to dance for your life." She took a stance, like the cowboys did in the old spaghetti westerns, her wand pointed directly at him, a scowl on her face. Yes, she was trying to have a Mexican Standoff. Was she aware of the fact? No. The morning sun beat down on her pigmentless flesh. A glisten of sweat began to form on her brow, as a lone feather floated by. Willow flapping her arms, wildly in the background, really added to the tense atmosphere. For the sake of the setting, just pretend that she's a tumbleweed or something.

"You have played well, but I'm afraid there can only be one winner in this game, friend." She turned slightly, watching him out of the corner of her narrowed eyes. "This is your chance to sssurrender!" She wasn't going to let him get away that easily, and she figured he wasn't the type to back down anyways. A lively fire, lit up her yellow hues. A gloved hand went up to wipe the sweat from her brow. This was taking much longer than intended. Perhaps she was stalling? No, she definitely wanted to see him dance. "No hard feelings..right?" She wouldn't wait for an answer. "Tarantallegra!"

@Xailah Alptraum

His spell went wide, and the boy blurted an anxious "No!" when he saw it sail towards Schrödinger. An audible sigh of relief followed the miss. So long as the feline was fine, Pericles' conscience was clear. Xailah made quick work of the remaining opponent, but when she turned upon the Ravenclaw with her silver tongue, he whipped her way with wand at the ready. Metallic eyes narrowed like knives as the two stared one another down. "I would never strike Schrödinger. That was simply an attempt to..." hesitation, debating theatrical excuses "...put you off your guard!" An audible gasp answered the use of his surname, fake shock facing her faux scowl, and Peri was prompt to retort: "The nerve, Xailah Alptraum. Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!"

It was down to two. With the Scottish sun as spotlight, tension ringing in the air, the wanton pitter-patter of absurd footwork in the backdrop, they had their banter-off. When offered one final opportunity for surrender, the fledgling wizard barked back "Never, witch! Dralt men fight to the finish." And they were off with a duo of resounding "Tarantallegra", spells (hopefully) rocketing through the air, a trace of legs and wave of wands the final act to determine a victor.

Casting Tarantallegra at Xailah

Willow's luck had already run out. Well, she wasn't even really luck. Her first spell died before it left her wand, and she barely missed Alan's spell. This was definitely a fluke for her, she was usually much more talented at avoiding things, but does avoiding emotions translate to avoiding spells? Apparently not. Luckily she was only hit once, she couldn't imagine the dancing that she would end up doing if there was a double tarantallegra attack.

As Xailah's spell ran it's course through her body she ended up doing one of her favorite dances. The chicken dance. As if that dance couldn't be messy and embarrassing enough, it was somehow worse. Her body was trying to do all the motions at once, the quacking of the hands, the flapping of the wings, the wiggling of the butt. While also trying to bob her head like a chicken. It was truly a tragedy of an amazing and majestic dance. Belly laughter bubbled up and out of Willow. Even though she was a little upset about how easily she lost, she had been having a good time. As the dance slowed she quickly shook it off and bounced over to join Alan on the blanket, still giggling as she watched Xailah and Pericles in anticipation.

Action: Ruining the beautiful and majestic Dance of the Chicken.

Xailah Alptraum had not cleared leather, fore a spell fairly ripped. And the Ravenclaws aim was deadly, with the aspen wand on his hip. Two wands had been drawn. The two remaining players would cast. But only one wand would obey its wielder. Only one person would fall. The Gryffindors chestnut wand emitted a sense of hope- hope that would prove to be false. A small twinkle of light sparked from the tip of the dark wood, but it would hardly last a second before fizzling out. And it was during that second, the lioness would come to the realization that she had lost. "Ah! I've been hit!" The Gryffindor exclaimed, as she witness a hazy blue light make contact with her torso.

The spell sent a tingling sensation through the metamorps body, a thin pulse of electric-blue, rippled through the girls dark locks, before fading into the darkness of the wild mane. Electrifying. "Ouh!" The tarantallegra would soon do its work, sending the child into a very aggressive rendition of Tchaikovsky's, Swan Lake. "Oh! Don't ssstart getting cocky, Dralt! I let you win." She sneered, as she did a jeté through the air. The boy won fair and square. Sure, okay. But that didn't mean Xailah was going to admit it.

A few graceless pirouettes and leaps later; and the spell would begin to wear off. Her dance- dare she even call it a dance? No, to call it a dance would be an insult to the art. Her shameful, magic-induced, spasm would slowly come to an end. "You little heathen!" She collapsed onto the grass once the spell wore off completely; watching the boy Alan, get up to give the Ravenclaw his prize. Goodness, who would have known, how tiring mindless flailing could be? "This isn't over yet Pericles-" She wheezed "-When I get my hands on you, I'm going to throw you into the lake!"

No, seriously, she was actually going to try. She shot upright "So you better ssstart running, if you know whats good for you!" Was the Ravenclaw going to run? Or did he let his victory go to his head? The Gryffindor would whistle to her faithful companion, who had been patiently 'watching' the game, like the good boy he was. "Schrödinger, attack!" The metamorph commanded to the cat. The bulbous lump, of grey matter, looked up at his human and... sneezed. He had no interest in his mistresses personal affairs. "You embarrass me Schrödinger!" The felines lack of urgency resulted in a dramatic gasp from his human counterpart.

Xailah would leap after the little bird, ignoring Schrödingers resentment towards physical activity. It wasn't like she needed his help catching the eagle anyways. He didn't even have thumbs. It wouldn't take long for the fuzzy glob, to decide to reluctantly trail after his human. It was the wisest choice, considering his owner was in a rare, playful sort of frenzy. He didn't really want to know what would happen if he didn't follow. He quite enjoyed having three meals a day, with snacks in between- mind you.

@Xailah Alptraum, @Alan Vanes, @Donald Fish, @Willow Anderson

As Xailah proclaimed defeat, Pericles blew an imaginary tendril of smoke from the tip of his wand, "holstering" it in a pocket with a triumphant smirk. "Pride precedes the fall, my friend!" he bantered back with a mock tone of grim resolution. The attempt to sound sage was shattered by low giggles wobbling on the edge of each word. "Or, in this case, the fouetté...? Was that what that was?" Silver eyes danced as his laughter was narrowly contained. Rejoining the others on the picnic blanket so as to watch the show, Pericles accepted his prize with a chuckled "thank you". The opposite empty hand extended for a shake. "Brilliant idea for a game," Alan was complimented, offered an ear-to-ear grin. "That was fun, and good practice, too! D'you do rounds like this regularly?" Where this divided from the S.W.A.G games was the wholesomeness of it all- participants tended to treat the matches with bloodthirsty seriousness, but this was good clean entertainment. Particularly the pirouetting Xailah in the background.

Turning to those who had remained until the end, Pericles added "Here: one for each of us." A frog was passed to Willow, Donald, Alan himself, one into his own pocket, and one for.... Oh, but she was shouting at him. Smile dying down, the boy blinked owlishly across the grass, eyebrows arching ever higher. The "threat" sank in and he barked back, "Don't you try anything. I have a chocolate for you, just here, and I'm going to eat it if you aren't kind to me." She had gone so far as to sic her pet upon him, but the feline's utter absence of enthusiasm only bolstered the first-year's rare show of sass. "Schrödinger wouldn't dare hurt me. He understands that I adore him." Resources diminished, the wild witch was headed for him.

Pericles seemed to spot the spark in her eye, grasped the severity of his situation, and before he could enjoy a chocolate with the others he was forced to scramble and snatch his bag from the ground. The leather strap was haphazardly tossed overhead as he shouted "This isn't part of the rules, Xailah Alptraum! I'll give you detention if you try!" The empty threat was less of a warning, the false urgency turning it instead into an invitation. Ever since he had written an article about running, or rather, ever since the interview with Professor Griffith pertaining to jogs, he had done his best to exercise. Pericles had been jogging every morning before breakfast, and almost every afternoon before dinner. His discipline was improving and so was his capacity for cardio. He could, at the very least, give her a merry chase.

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