The Swift and the Speedy Broom Racing Finished

Bolded Text: French | Regular Text: English | Color: #BF4040

Finally, the broom race. This was the entire reason that Florian had attended this stupid summer camp in the first place. He had been ecstatic when it was finally announced, and so Florian had picked up his brothers broom, a Comet 180, and made his way to where the race was to begin. His own broom he had managed to crash and break over the initial summer break, and his parents, in a bit of a show that Florian should be more careful, decided that he would not be getting a new one until he showed he could be more careful with his belongings. 'Ugh, Parents.'

He would enter the field, gripping his broom tightly, ready for what was to be one heck of a race. The Beauxbatons (and guests) would win, Florian was sure about that.

For Moderation:
Broom: Comet 180 - +2 accuracy, +1 evasion, +1 stamina Top speed 5
Stats: Stamina: 5 (6) - Evasion: 8 (9) - Strength: 5 - Wisdom: 9 - Arcane: 5 - Accuracy: 8 (10)
Abilities: Foulplay

The Racers

The time had come for me to take on the racer's mantle once again. I had sacrificed my pursuit of Quidditch long ago. Something about the sport simply did not appeal to my introverted nature, I suppose. I was strong enough to be a beater, quick enough with my reflexes to be a Keeper, but with Hanzo and his sister having moved on to dueling, an art I could never personally hope to master, I stuck with my broom and thus became one of Durmstrang's racers.

This was a four way battle. One of Russia's fellow schools, Illvormorny, and Hogwarts would all attend. I had far more competition, far much more to prove of myself.

As such, I never associated with the rest of the competition, only offering a quiet smile to my fellow teammates. To them I was quiet to the point of nonexistence; but I was just fine with that.

I was going to win. For Durmstrang and for the rest of my team, I would win.

Lining up at the starting line, I mounted my loyal Moontrimmer and put a hand protectively on my Yew wand. I had everything I needed to race with, my scarlet Durmstrang uniform fluttering in any sparse wind that would come my way. I was watching the course, observing the best path. It would be wrong to say that I wasn't frightened or enthralled with any of the proceedings. The dangers which had been rising in the past month was more than enough reason to provoke fear even in the most stalwart heart.

But now it was time to race, to observe, and to act. I was ready. I knew my team was prepared as well.

Action: Scoping out the Immediate Obstacles
Move: 5 squares (Moontrimmer)

Stats:
Stamina 10 | Evasion 7 10 | Strength 13 | Accuracy 12 15 | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 0

Abilities:
Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist

Broom: Moontrimmer
(Stats added above, 10% Auto-dodge)

She couldn't remember the exact way her first race had ended, but it must have gone well enough, for her to be excited about the next one. Or maybe it had ended horribly, and diminishing adrenaline had aided her forgetting the details. The only thing she could clearly recall from the races conclusion, was this excited buzz- like electricity- pumping, and crackling through her being. She would feel something similar this race. Up until today, summer had been uneventful- for Xailah. Nothing particularly noteworthy had happened, making her the odd one out between two of her friends. Meenauh was unable to attend summer camp this year, but that didn't mean her summer lacked excitement. She had mentioned she would be visiting Russia the "muggle way" with her family. What that entailed, Xailah was not completely sure. She could only assume that the "muggle way", meant Meenauh and her family were either traveling on foot, or by car. Most likely the latter. Hopefully the latter, given how far away Russia was. Pericles on the other hand, was attending summer camp this year. The cub and bird were unable to spend time with each other last summer (the boy had been absent). The fledgling had been keeping himself busy enough- enough for the Gryffindor to consider whatever activities he partook in as, "eventful". Meanwhile Xailah was experiencing something of a dry spell, when it came to finding a much needed dose of excitement through summer camp extracurriculars. And honestly, she almost felt like she was missing out. But, luckily for her, where there is a long dry spell, heavy rain always follows. Xailah rejoiced when the rain finally came in the flashy guise of a sporting event. She was ecstatic. She was prepared. Almost. First she needed to drop something off.

Rumors spread quickly. Like termites. Crawling and scuttling. Biting and chewing. No one is aware of their existence, until its too late, and hundreds of them wiggle their way out of the woodwork. Recently, some particularly foul Rumors were making their rounds amongst the student body. Creeping, and coaxing children to drink their fearful poison. Those that drank, would find smatterings of truth. The ones that rejected the dark wine, cried falsities; perhaps to make themselves feel better. For, to even imagine that there was some truth to the rumors, was terrifying. Students were becoming the targets of attacks, carried out by both beast and men. Students had died- ones from visiting schools. Death was something that was regularly encountered (or at the very least, faced) by Hogwarts students and staff alike. It was part of life, and they seemed to understand that. However, up until the eighth of August, deaths had never been in masses, and never premeditated. The world was wrong. Big Blue officially flipped; went topsy-turvy, and things were only going to get worse from there. If worse was even possible.

There was no surprise when Xailah uprooted a few of these rumors. She enjoyed tittle-tattle. Liked to pick them apart, to find the remnants of truth. She was always listening for the new word on the street. They fueled her navigator- miss curiosity- but they also had a habit of fueling her fear. The more crooked the rumor, the more likely it was to give life to paranoia. She never found herself fearing for her own safety- no, that had never been much of a concern of hers- her concerns rested with whether or not others would be safe.

The astronomy tower was a clever place to keep the spectators of the race. The Quidditch stands limited visibility, but the tower allowed for full viewing of the competition that would be taking place below. A speck of black could be seen outside the tower, traveling its height, stopping at each window to peek inside. When it reached the tippy-top, it would halt its journey. Upon closer inspection, the speck could be identified as a potential racer- Xailah to be exact. And she was looking for a certain spectator. She perched outside one of the observatory windows, like an expectant cat; one hand wrapped tightly around a brooms handle, while the other braced itself against the windows ledge. When steadied, the hand on the broom would move, to balance something that was out of frame. Her legs hung comfortably over one side of her chosen mount. She leaned inwards, her shoulder clipping the side of the surrounding cobblestone fixtures. It didn't take very long for her to find the person she had been looking for. She she spied him, and called. "Pericles." She rang, her voice like a little bell. She waved the eaglet over to the window. "I can't be long-" She looked over her shoulder, and towards the track, as she spoke. "-I just wanted to drop by and say 'hallo'." She feigned a small smile. "So, hallo." Her stomach felt as if it had filled with jumping beans. "I've brought Schrödinger, to keep an eye on you." She reached in front of her, to pat a basket which was securely strapped to her Moontrimmer. A quavering hand undid the binding holding the wickerwork in place. With a grunt, she heaved the basket onto the window sill, and flipped open its lid. Out popped a little grey head, and then the rest of Schrödingers body, once he regathered his bearings.

Xailah would not leave just yet. If it hadn't been obvious enough already, she didn't fly all the way up the Astronomy tower just to greet her friend and leave. That would have been a bit of waste of time wouldn't it? The lionesses eyes brushed over the Ravenclaws gentle features quickly. Remembering something, she would allow her golds to raise and meet his silvers. "I get to test out the goggles you got for me." Finally. It had been eight months since she received them. Not once during those eight months, had she the opportunity to wear them for the sport they were intended for- which was, clearly, broom racing. The Gryffindor beamed brightly; as she reached around to her side, to produce the dashing set of eyewear. Xailah didn't wear her glasses anymore, even though she needed them. She stopped wearing them at the start of her fourth year. The reason was not yet known, but it was assumed she simply didn't like them anymore. That said, her interest in funky eye gear, had not been tossed, like her need for eyeglasses. The gifted goggles were brilliant things; bearing some influence from Hermes himself; bronze, and fitted with little wings on the sides. Surely they would bless the metamorph with the speed she needed.

Quickly, but carefully, she pulled the spectacles over her head; allowing them to sit atop her thick bangs for the time being. She fidgeted with the band that held them in place, looping a finger around it, to smooth out any kinks. A finger brushed away a stray hair. Her hand slipped beneath her chin, the top brushed the underside of her jawline in a pose. "How do I look?" She gave a small, haughty pout, and quirked a brow at Pericles. "Fast?"

Movement was captured in Xailah's peripheral. She thought it to be a bug buzzing by at first, but upon turning she would find that it was a student. When the first racer trundled towards the starting line, Xailah took that as her sign to depart. She shook away any remaining silliness, to make room for seriousness. Giving Pericles one last look, she made her last (and first) request. "Wish me luck." She demanded gently; stretching out a petite, gloved hand; for him to take. "Please." An added afterthought. Tacked on, to make the young man more inclined to carry out her wish. She began to descend from the window; slowly drifting down to join the other racers, accumulating at the start. Even though her flesh was bound taught, inside her sleek fit, she could still feel the prickling sensation of forming gooseflesh. The small hairs on her arms rose, grazing the fabric that armored them. An electric crackle ran down the length of her spine, tickling it. This was it. The day she had been waiting for- the day she had been anticipating for months since the conclusion of the marathon prior.

There was a lot different with her, since the last race. Some differences were noticeable, some- the phycological ones- were not. The most obvious difference would not be her, per se, but her broom. Oh yes, the lacquered stretch of wood had undergone a makeover. It hardly looked like the same Moontrimmer, from months ago- if the original, sleek shape of the broom had not been preserved, it might as well have been an entirely different ride. Where there was once was dull, sanded wood, now draped a finish as smooth as glass; and painted with a color so whimsical, it tricked the eye into thinking that it was two colors. At first glance it glittered a metallic black, but when viewed at the right angle and in the right light, it became a deep red- a seductive black cherry. From the brooms shaft- right around the place where hands were meant to rest- hung two fuzzy, red dice, which swung to and fro, tauntingly. Ridiculously tacky things, but Xailah thought them to be good luck. At the brooms frontmost tip in polished, chrome lettering, shone a single name: DeSoto. A cool decal, or a clever design choice that also fared as a means to blind opponents, should they dare spare a glance? Tune in to find out. Yes, it had a name. Any good broom deserved one. DeSoto would become her second pride and joy- next to Schrödinger, who easily took the spot for first.

Inspiration had been taken from an old muggle magazine, that she had been flipping through one afternoon, which contained pictures of antique cars. Absolutely beautiful things; with their blue and red paints, and chrome bumpers. They were the start of an innocent obsession- the making of a motorhead. Taking the slick designs from the papers, she applied them to her own broom, frankensteining ideas together with uttermost care, until what would be one of her greatest creations to date, was finally ready to be revealed to the world. She took pride in her monster; something made obvious by the way she rolled up next to her fellow racers- straight backed, with confidence. Had someone looked her way, they might have even seen her polishing off a spot on the broom shaft, with the side of her hand. When she finally fell into line, and acknowledged each racer present with a nod; Xailah chanced one last look towards the astronomy tower. She was ready. Or so she thought.

Three Days Left to Post, many of you have not posted and still need to. [Updated 8/16]
@Percival Rainwood - Mikael Halldorson
@Ivy Bellamy - Cielle Posey Johansen
@Mars T'ien - Alexander Theodore Baron
@Anastasia Beckett - Alexei Petrov
@Astrea Soleil Neptune - Johannes Cyprian Ambroży
@Dmitri Jones - Kheanu Maravilho Mondelez
@Alan Vanes - Nichlas Forsberg
@Willow Anderson - Everett "Rett" Brooks
@Rose Moon - Andrew Lycan Withdrew at this time (Aug 13).
@Sarah Lightwood - Amelie Fontaine
@Katrina Walker - Iris Field
@Simon Kincaid of House Hufflepuff [Posted]
@Paige Grant of House Hufflepuff [Posted]
@Stanley Buttons -- Sébastien Batteux
@Levi Drakos of house Gryffindor

If there was one thing in the whole world Paige loved, it was food. but Also sports! It was the feeling of adrenaline, the rush of it all. The risks you had to take to win, it was what she loved. She loved testing her skills, pushing herself to go further, to push her limits. She also enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment. She wanted to help her house, though, too. She wanted to... do something for it. Quidditch, was her first thought. Dueling was not her thing, she never studied. She knew zero spells... well, she never studied them. Then broom racing sign ups came along, and Paige had to laugh at the way this turned out.

Well, she was here now, and wondering if she had gone insane. She knew NO SPELLS! How could she get last obstacles? She gripped her broom with sweaty hands, glancing at the crowds. There would be no chance she could recognise any one, not unless they called her name. She was too lost in thought. She got ready, and all she heard was the sound of her beating heart.

Broom: The rickety school broom, who Paige has named Rick.
Stamina - 4| Evasion - 8| Strength - 7| Wisdom - 1| ArcPower - 4 | Accuracy - 6


Obnoxiously Strong

There were several things that Simon Kincaid loved. The first was probably music, the second maybe reading and learning, and the third was getting out there and feeling the adrenaline rush of sports. He had played a lot of indoor football, hockey, and squash. When he got to Hogwarts, he was first slightly disappointed to hear that the only team sport seemed to be quidditch, quidditch, quidditch.

It wasn't that quidditch was bad. It seemed like a right good sport in theory and execution. Merely, it was the place in which it was held - out amongst the Quidditch Pitch, high above the open air, during the day, with the bright sun shinning down on all (given it wasn't overcast or raining). That meant to play, Simon would be up on a broom high in the sky and closer to the sun than usual! No. That also meant to watch, Simon would have to sit in the open stands, looking up, allowing the sun to shine down on his face for long periods of time. Also no.

He was very excited to hear about broom racing. For someone with his dhampir abilities to usually be faster when it came to things like reaction time and just speed in general, why not give it a try!

Simon came to the starting area and glanced up at the darkened clouds and smiled. Perfect weather. He lowered the school broom he would be using and got into position. He then looked over to his left and there was fellow Hufflepuff, Paige Grant. She was one of his teammates for this event (and exceptionally good at keeping embarrassing secrets) and he smiled to her. "Ready, Grant?" he asked, reaching out to offer her a fist pump in support.

Stats: Stamina - 6| Evasion - 6| Strength - 9| Wisdom - 5| ArcPower - 4 | Accuracy - 5
Broom: School Assigned
Race: Dhampir

Action: Ready to race

role-playing as Sébastien Batteux
team beauxbatons-hogwarts

Sébastien honestly could not remember the last time he had been at Hogwarts. There was no reason to what so ever. The ball was terribly boring. He had found another person who spoke Veela (it made him feel common) and worst of all he had not been chosen to participate in the broom racing event that occurred. The boy had not planned to come to Hogwarts again but once he heard that there was a chance of him being able to see Cassie and ride a broom again, he jumped at the chance. It was the only way to help him stop thinking of his condition. It was also just another excuse to get out of his bedroom that he was so sick of seeing.

As Berry stood in the line of other racers, his heart was beating incredibly fast. The adrenaline of wanting to get back onto a broom was catching up to him. The words that were being amplified were muffled and his eyes were going a bit blurry. What if he failed. What if he fell of his broom in front of everyone. Sébastien would for sure be a laughing stock then. He shook his head quickly and grabbed his broom. He had to be focused or the worst would defiantly happen. "Berry. You can do this. Make your grandparents proud." He then sheepishly smiled to himself and cocked his head slightly to the left, "Maybe Cassie as well."

action: mouting broom and prepearing
sta. 7 8‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ eva. 10 11‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ str. 8‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ wis. 5‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ arc. 0‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ acc. 10 12
Evasive Manouvers, Comprehend Languages
comet 180 - +2 accuracy, +1 evasion, +1 stamina

Banner from Winnie Harper

Mentioning N/A
Interacting With N/A

You could say he was getting in touch with his muggle roots Wizard Mario Kart. Levi had signed up for broom racing with a grand racing his lips and tugging at a squinted eyes, like the sun was before him just reaching its peak. And then, when the day had come, it had hidden in a gentle overcast, ready to renew his eyes. The day of the race had dawned upon him breeding this thrill parallel to a birthday or holiday. It was a competition, a show of skill, of wit, of dominance. And he was ready.

As he mounted his broom, a recent gift that lingered in his heart, caressing every corner and valve, the beat of the boy's heart quickened and rammed against his chest. Eyes glided over the groups, spending a moment on each person as though sizing up the competition. There was no fear, no apprehension, not even a dash of worry. There was nothing but the chemical release of adrenaline.

Action mounting broom and preparing self

Trunk
Abilities: Metamorphmagus, Charmer | Broom: Nimbus 1700 | Top Speed: 6
Stats: Sta: 7 | Eva: 7 (8) | Str: 4 (5) | Wis: 6 (7) | Arc: 5 | Acc: 6 (8)

all dialogue in russian unless specified otherwise
interactions [--]
mentions[--]

Broom racing. A wizard's go at recreating Initial D with glorified Baba Yaga broomsticks. Positive connotation only, no wrong answers here. This wasn't Johannes' first rodeo and yet the feeling of building anticipation never did get old. The specifics of his last official race were hazy with sweet motion blur, the sharp tang of blood running down his face and heart going haywire in the best way possible at the speed, but he's sure it couldn't have gone too bad if he could still kind-of remember it. Yes, that was the hell-tripping standards he was holding it with, and no, it will most likely not change with this race.

He wasn't the best with his wand, but he didn't need a stick to wave around in order to make muggle scientists start rolling around in their graves. Question about how something works in the wizarding world but couldn't possibly make any sense in the muggle world? Vice versa? No biggie, you got your friend Mr Stop-Giving-A-Fuck-And-Accept-It to help you out! It just do be like that sometimes.

And what was really "being like that sometimes" was the fact that Johannes was having major déjà vu mounting his broom, absolutely itching to put the pretty thing into proper use. Well-used and well-looked after, kitschy dog tag, cracked compass charm and all, his broom was his pride and joy and he'd be twice damned if it were to remain in its carrying case for as long as it had been. Hold onto your Wii U wand straps, because this kid's ready to rumble.

Action: Hyping himself up Preparing for the race.

MENTIONING: Greta Fransson @Evelynn Decipio & Theodore Duncain @Opeila Seilun

| Allies: Durmstrang | Broom: Silver Arrow | Clothes: Uniform

The blond boy was not excited exactly, though he had been looking forward to this day on which he could lead the team to victory as he had wished to do ever since the game had been announced. It just felt so good to put other schools and their braggy mouths into their place and admit Durmstrang's superiority. The more it was a shame that his team had been tainted by placing a Hogwarts student into their team, which he had accepted with disdain; though for the time being he assumed he would have to live with the decision. It was a young student of all people, rather than giving him a student with actual competence; a sigh. As he stepped toward the middle of the field where a starting line had been marked, his eyes caught sight of Greta who seemed to be trying to get his attention. Involuntarily his expression would soften just a bit as he accepted the small detour to allow her the moment of distraction and it proofed useful or at least charming in the end as he watched her loosen a ribbon. He would patiently stand ahead of her, broom firmly planted into his hand as he watched the girl with attentive eyes. He had good posture and offered his hand with an open palm for her to drop the blue ribbon in she had previously used to tie her hair into an intricate hair-do. Now half of the hair, split in the middle, would fall onto her shoulder instead giving him a smug expression as he gave a little bow as he closed his fist around the ribbon and held it against his heart; a formality maybe, or perhaps more? Who was able to see through Niche after all.

Without giving another word he would make his way over to the starting line and couldn't help as the feeling of excitement overcame him, as if something had changed and the race suddenly meant more than it had before. He wanted to win before, no question, but something unbeknownst to him had amplified the desire to win and crush the other schools in his step. Though as he saw a boy, guessing from his clothes from Ilvermorny, approach Greta and receive the second ribbon that had been done into her hair, his eyes would narrow coolly, before focusing on the moderator. He wished the other boy bad luck during this game and blamed it solely on the fact that he was from another school; Niche had no business wishing him any luck after all. As he stood at the starting line, he would tighten the ribbon around the handle of his broom before finalizing his work with a knot, worried that a ribbon would get loose during the high speeds of a race; as he readied himself he would wait for the command to push off the ground.

Action
Do as strategised | Get started