Quidditch Hogwarts vs Durmstrang - Summer 2023

Summer Games with another school's Quidditch team or teams were exciting and nerve wrecking, but the main point was the international interactions. Roxette hoped she would be able to make it through the game for a longer time than her first and last game. She was just glad they won the house cup and now this new challenge to be fulfilled. She was hopeful as she walked to sit down and wait with the rest of the team. She looked to her teammates on the bench too. "I hope this time if I'm called out, I'll make it pass only a few minutes up there," she told them with a sigh as she grip her broomstick. Her gaze was to the field, looking over the opponents up with the active members of both teams. She prayed that she didn't knock out so easily, crossing her fingers for additional luck.

date: 07.29.2023 action : benched mentions : teammates interactions : teammates WORD COUNTER: 50+/50

•••TRANSLATIONS•••

Reducio

Speaking | Thinking | English - 0d134f
| Korean - af28d1

•••QUIDDITCH DETAILS•••

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STATS:: STA - 8 | EVA - 5 | STR - 3 | WIS - 7 | ARCP - 7 | ACC - 5

STATS/BROOM:: STA - 9 | EVA - 6| STR - 3 | WIS - 7| ARCP - 7 | ACC - 7

Broom: Comet 180 (+4 to all stats: +2 accuracy, +1 evasion, +1 stamina)

Tightening the glove on her left hand, Atlas exhaled deeply as her heartbeat steadily drummed in her chest. She lived for Quidditch. Well, she mostly lived for Quidditch. There was her boyfriend, family, pranks, and candy that also brought light to her eyes and made each day worth it but hearing the roar of the crowd had her mind solely focused on a win today to end her fourth year with a bang.

This was also not the first time her team had competed against Durmstrang. They were a formidable opponent but Atlas reminded herself that they won last time and they could do it again but it would no doubt be a grueling match…her favorite.

Cracking her neck, the young girl mounted her broom, giving Ethen a wink as she kicked off the ground.

“Catch me if you can, Tebo!” She yelped with a giggle before racing into the stadium after a few of her teammates.

The light drizzle was quick to tickle her face once she was out on the field as the cacophony from the crowd amplified, adding a light vibration to her broom handle.

Breathing in the petrichor, Atlas cocked her head up in unadulterated bliss as she took her place in front of the goalposts. Her eyes briefly flicked to each of her incredible teammates that were far more like family by now as her smile seemed to consume her entire face.

“LET’S GO FLYING CHAOS BADGERS!” She screamed at the top of her lungs with another giggle.

Action: Doing as Strategized

Reducio

Name: Atlas Reid
Position: First String Keeper

Stats:
Stamina: 10
Evasion: 13
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 9
Arc. Power: 7
Accuracy: 14

Stats With Broom:
Stamina: 10+3= 13
Evasion: 13+3= 16
Strength: 4+3= 7
Wisdom: 9+3= 12
Arc. Power: 7+3= 10
Accuracy: 14+3= 17

Abilities:
Fearless
Fear effects such as a dhampir's aura, the ability terrible presence, a lycanothrope's intimidation or certain charms, potions and jinxes that would normally cause a fear effect do not work on you as you are immune to them.

Keepers Catch
10% chance to automatically block an attempt to score a goal as long as the Keeper is in the goal area. If an attempt to score has been blocked through this effect, the Keeper may as a free action hurl the quaffle at the opponent team in an attempt to injure a player of their choice (it would be recovered with a quaffle grab action) and treated like a bludger or pass the quaffle to a team mate. This must be declared by the Keeper if either of these free actions are to be utilized.

Evasive Maneuvers
Harder to hit on average, 10% on auto-dodge chance that anything that targets this wizard automatically misses. This is rolled separately from the attack roll.

Broom: Silver Arrow (+3 to all stats)

Squinting his eyes, Ethen looked up as the light rain pelted his face. He always adored the rain and overcast weather. The scent of rain had long been his favorite scent and as he inhaled the clear petrichor, a grin moved over his lips as he basked in the rain. He felt ready for the game to come but wanted just a moment to enjoy the drizzle before a bunch of witches and wizards tried to remove his head with bludgers. The life of a seeker had proved far more hazardous than he originally thought but he still loved the action and excitement of the games.

Hearing his girlfriend's taunt pulled Ethen's attention back to the world as he glared at the girl who quickly flew away. "For your information, I have to save my speed. But they don't call be the Badger's Broom Basilisk for nothing!" Ethen called back as he quickly mounted his broom in pursuit of the girl. No one actually called him that, but he thought if he kept giving himself nicknames, one was bound to stick eventually.

"I better not hear any scores on you darling," Ethen grinned as he flew beside her. "Unleash your inner keeper beast, become the flash of golden lightning we need!" Ethen quipped just before flapping his arms like a bird as he moved into his position.

Action: Doing as Strategized

Reducio

Stats without Broom: STA: 7 | EVA: 9 | STR: 5 | WIS: 15 | ARCP: 6 | ACC: 13
Stats with Broom: STA: 10 | EVA: 12 | STR: 8 | WIS: 18 | ARCP: 9 | ACC: 16
Abilities: Calming Presence (Affecting all Hufflepuffs) | Keen Eye
Broom: Silver Arrow ( + 3 to all stats )

*Stats in Banner are Post Ability/Broom Augmentations

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné [6'6.5" | 199lbs]

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint Scar on Left Eye & Mangled Right Ear | \ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm / | Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |

Team Sárkány & Team Dandelion Hufflepuff

The grand finale; this was the role that Durmstrang was playing for the entertainment of the crowd gathered in the miniscule pitch of Hogwarts. Miniscule only in size definition only, for this was in comparison to the London Quidditch Stadium in which I had competed in previously. Flush with victory all of us were, flush with victory after defeating one of Hogwarts’ houses. Ravenclaw, the house of strategists and creativity; they had not demonstrated their values well, unfortunately. It had been almost child’s play to outmaneuver and execute their team player after player, Durmstrang’s hard work had paid off that year. Valentin and I had sweated and pored over a shared labor of love for our team; Camp Schnell-Marchonné, and the efforts put into making it a success had paid off as our team beautifully and terrifyingly crushed every opponent that had dared to get in our way.

Feeling a rainswept breeze on the breath of a cold front that had been persistent throughout the day, I inhaled deeply as I heard the whisper of wind passing through the perfectly clipped birch twigs of Valentin’s heritage Firebolt. I had obsessed over the broom the night before; shining her to perfection and trimming her birch bristles with all the delicacy that I could manage with clippers and with my jackknife in tandem. A beautiful creature, a handsome broom… one that I still didn’t feel I deserved… but I would prove her worth to me today, I would prove that I could make her a weapon of beauty and awe alike. My maplewood bat, now sporting nicks and scratches from Jack il Bolide as well as other bludgers that I had stuck with all the weight that I could put behind it with one blow, was dangling at my side with the handle being rolled in my palm. Today would bring more cracks of the bat, more whistling cast iron bludgers that would hurtle about the pitch at breakneck speed; both at my team and at theirs. I would simply be trying to hit them harder.

The storm was not here, else if it was we had missed the worst of it. Still, the breath of the tempest was in the air, the rattles of war rising upon the wings of the fronts. Today was a battle, today we went to war again. But, to win this war, I had to know those that I was faced against. Fortunately, I happened to remember some of these individuals. I remembered the first time I had ever played in the London Quidditch stadium as a Keeper; I remembered the enormous boy who bore a beater’s bat (he had been around my current height back then, or at least he had seemed that way to me), the blonde girl that was only the second string Keeper was now the first string Keeper, and there was the dark haired girl who was benched now but I remembered as being a remarkable Chaser when I had first played against her. These others were unfamiliar, but I had been picking up bits and pieces through papers and through some sport resources. As Hogwarts was apt to do, I knew that some among them were not full human beings like myself; these carried advantages and disadvantages both. It would be my job to determine those weaknesses and to best take advantage of that shortcoming on their behalf; it was through those weaknesses and playing to our strengths that we would find our second victory, a payback for the first time they had broken our previous win streak all those years ago.

Slightly disordered we were, slightly jittery as we were apt to be; we had indeed lost a player literally days before this game; Amina Petrovic, eccentric and a thrillseeker, had injured herself during a daring play. While the play had been impressive, the damage it had done was not. It had been beyond my capacity to patch up and was better left for the professionals… and it had taken her out of the competition entirely for this summer. We had boarded instead a gloomy, sulking eighth year; Nichlas Forsberg. While he was not really an… active member in the team… I could not argue with the fact that being older and with life experience gave him a certain edge that placed him above some of our other considerations for the position. He wasn’t familiar with working with the team in depth, I had not had time to break in the ‘fresh meat’ the way I would have liked, and I would simply have to trust in adaptation on his behalf to ensure that he could blend in effortlessly with the rest of the team.

Arjan huffed as he took his seat on the bench and I narrowed my eyes at him. He knew full well why he had been bumped down to second string; I didn’t care how grouchy he was over this, this was his punishment for lipping back to not only myself and Valentin but also to his professors. I tapped his leg with my bat lightly, a look of assertion on my face. “Hey.” I nodded to Slava, pardoning myself for interrupting. “Hey, you know the reason for this.” I stated bluntly. “It’s a lesson not a punishment. Besides, you’ll likely end up in the air eventually anyways; maybe if you quit sassing and choking on pride and instead play well and act a team sport you’ll be back on the front lines. If that is what you want, that is.” No bias, no condescending nature; this was the truth. I expected greatness, and dammit I was going to have it even if I had to break every person on this team and grind them into fine powder to do it. Durmstrang was a fighting force; I wanted to keep it that way.

In the meanwhile, though, it was time to address the rest of the team; safety, strategy, the whole shabang. Trying to catch Valentin’s attention, I called the eyes of the team to me with a sharp finger-whistle. Calling a rally by circling my maple bat in the air over my head, I was at least expecting them to pay attention, even if they didn’t want to circle up around me.

When I was satisfied, I began my report. “Alright Sárkányok!” I shouted to all of them, trying to cut through the cheering of the crowd thrumming all around us. “Alright! We are the last game! The crowd is looking for something to keep them engaged after hours of watching other games go by! They’re BORED and they need ENTERTAINMENT.” I boomed. “Well, they’re gonna get a lot more than they bargained for, because they made the mistake of playing US! They made the right choice putting us as the last match because we’re gonna FLOOR Them and we’re gonna get our rightful PAYBACK on team DANDELION.” Harsh words in the tongue of Russian, a language I finally felt at home speaking after five long years of education and immersion in the Durmstrang culture. “We have RAIN on the FIELD!” I pointed to everyone with the tip of my bat. “This means you should all be CHALKING YOUR HANDS or else MANAGING YOUR GRIPS! We AREN’T going to just FALL OFF our brooms, understand?! Es-PECIALLY if the rain decides to just randomly start coming down full force after this wimpy misty shit!”

I directed my gaze at Alaric, the youngest boy on this team. I pointed my bat directly at him. “You especially. I want you to be very stuck on your broom. You’re gonna give her a kiss by the end of this match, if you don’t end up kissing the dirt first.” I gave him a bit of a side eye. In a bit of a softer voice I added: “This rain and this game, especially against this team, is no joke, kid. You’re likely going to be in a lot of pain or terrified of seeing a bludger ever again by the end of this. Just keep hitting them away and you should be fine.” A reassuring nod. “You’re going to replace us someday; we’re going to make you strong enough to do just that when the time comes.”

Redirecting back to the team, I nodded. “Remember the priorities of each round! Remember the plan, remember the signals!” I reminded. “Keepers don’t let anything pass unless there’s a better play, Chasers show no mercy, and we always keep Valentin in the air until he can nab the snitch.” The game was about to begin. “Today, we bestow retribution for the playoffs of 2020. Sárkányok, BREAK!”

When people started to make their way to their first positions, I strode up beside Valentin before he took to the skies. How different everything felt now, with only a year’s interim between the game with Ravenclaw last year and this one. “Valentino.” I caught his attention. “I… I’m sorry.” My shoulders, usually held back and confident in the presence of my team, now lowered a bit. “This summer has been a disaster, my brother…” My brother… “I’m starting to think that despite the chaos of this game, this is on average becoming the most stable part of our summers.” I tried to crack a smile, but it was short-lived. I still had that golden snitch that Valentin had caught last year which buzzed with its golden body and silver wings inside of a jar on my workdesk where I could always watch it if I wanted to. “Just… just fly safely out there. I don’t want a repeat of the last time we played Hufflepuff. I don’t care if I’m a beater capable of defending you now and you’re faster than you used to be; one wrong move and everything goes downhill.” I tried to salvage this conversation as best I could. “I don’t want to turn into a frothing monster out there unless it’s tempered properly.” Something that I was, in the words of my twin, ‘relapsing’ into.

It was not pleasant. The team didn’t deserve that. Hell, not even the other team deserved the kind of violence that I could bequeath upon them. “Just do what you do. Fly fast, fly confidently, and catch that snitch first. We’ve got your back… and even if the rest of the team somehow forgets that fact, I will remember it.” I vowed firmly. “I promise.”

A firm pat on the back, and I gingerly mounted the Firebolt and took to the skies. As soon as the bludgers came out of the box, I wanted to hit them first. I wanted to draw first blood and be the shot that would be first heard around the colosseum. Let’s get this started.

“On, Sárkány!”

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 17 [19.55 OS] Ω
Ω Accuracy 18 [+3 MC, +4FB] | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω
Ω Muggle Condition Ω

Broom: Firebolt (+4 Accuracy, +2 Broom Abilities)

Ricochet: 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).

Counterstrike: 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.

Note: For the rules lawyers out there: you are not considered your own ally.

Standing in the anteroom prior to exiting onto the pitch, Romeo whistled to gather Durmstrang’s team. Valentin was the first to circle up and, listening in silence, the captain focused on each word as he rubbed one finger against a scarred divot in his Silver Arrow. Romeo had really come into his own as co-captain over the last year, hadn’t he? Tipping his head downwards, Valentin knew admiration of only the most bittersweet sort. It was beautiful that Romeo had come back to the team and would now have his chance at symbolic reckoning against the Hufflepuffs, and this was inspiring precisely because the Italian had grown so much since that first showdown. Yet, for all they had learned and for all they had toiled, where were they now? Durmstrang’s team had finally recovered its ranks and no longer needed international player backfill despite the sudden loss of two players. They had even reclaimed their championship title last year. Each of them was far stronger and sharper than ever before. Yet, an empty ache in his gut told Valentin that, in fact, he’d felt more hopeful about Romeo’s place in his life a year ago when he first received the boy’s platonic bacetto.

Never had Romeo been more at the top of his athletic game than now, and never had he been such a stable force holding the group together – even long after the end of Camp Schnell-Marchonné… and yet, Valentin had never felt so at risk of losing him. His co-captain’s unusual choice of words – Team Dandelion – sizzled in the back of Valya’s mind as wordlessly as crackling firepit embers. Was it baseless fear or was it intuition that warned that after this latest Hufflepuff match, Romeo might quit the team again, but this time leaving him forever? If Valentin failed again, the way he had failed to watch his own back while flying with blind confidence in his first wingman to safeguard him, surely history would not only repeat itself, but disintegrate them even worse.

Once Romeo stepped back with his speech concluded, Valentin balanced his broom atop his open lightning-scarred palm. His violet gaze looked to each of his team mates, one at a time, and he stood in complete silence before closing his eyes and addressing them all in Russian.

“Today we fight without Amina Petrovic, whose recent hospitalization shows how close each of us are to death at any given moment – even for making just one split-second error. We are fortunate to have skilled healers with us today, who lend us their power so that we can push our limits bravely with the assurance that they can lend us temporary immortality. Unfortunately, even with them to assist us, we are not yet invulnerable.” Tipping his hand to the side, Val’s mercury-tone broom began to fall, only for his foot to rise at the last second to catch it in a new precarious balance. Standing on one leg, the captain continued. “When we walk, it is a process of perpetual falling, and this act can only take us far because we trust that our other foot will follow and take up our weight. Yes, some of us are new to the team, joining only after all the months, years, of training we did with comrades who cannot join us today. Yet, in order to move forward, we need to trust each other as surely as we trust each foot to fall into place for its partner. This is how we can ensure each other’s safety enough to wield confidence charging forward – fierce and fearless – to grasp victory by the tail. I will trust you with my life today, and I will do everything in my power to keep you invincible. Let’s break a new limit right here, right now.”

Kicking his leg up to toss his broom back into his waiting hand, Valentin spun on one heel and proceeded out towards the pitch. He didn’t have to turn his head again to know the sound of Romeo’s footfall only one second later. Striding up alongside him, Beater #4 began to speak.

“Valentino.” The sweetness of the name sliced the seeker through the heart. He could almost hear the hooves of cataclysm riding in on the words’ coattails. “I… I’m sorry.” Stopping dead in his tracks, Valentin blanched as he turned to face his co-captain. “This summer has been a disaster, my brother…” … but Valentin only shook his head. The problem was bigger than Piérre and Romeo knew it. “I’m starting to think that despite the chaos of this game, this is on average becoming the most stable part of our summers. Just… just fly safely out there. I don’t want a repeat of the last time we played Hufflepuff.” Valentin’s mouth opened slightly as his eyes stared back into Romeo’s as if asking if his co-captain had suddenly acquired the power of legilimency. “I don’t want to turn into a frothing monster out there unless it’s tempered properly. Just do what you do… We’ve got your back… and even if the rest of the team somehow forgets that fact, I will remember it. I promise.”

“Non sarebbe la prima volta che mi strappi via da una tomba prematura. Finché mi tieni al tuo fianco, farò anche tutto il possibile per renderti invincibile.”Italian: “Wouldn’t be the first time you snatched me away from an early grave. I’ll try to stay smart out there, though. So long as you choose to keep me by your side, I will do everything I can to make you invincible, too.” With a heavy sigh, Valentin wondered why it was that his first wingman had suddenly left him, and if it had been by choice or by accident. Either way, separation was separation. There was nothing Val could do for #3 anymore, for example. What could Valya hope to accomplish in Romeo’s life if he left the team again, to take care of his brother, or… A thousand conspiracies rushed to offer themselves up to Valentin’s fear, but shaking his long white hair out of his eyes, the captain shut them up with a squeeze of his broom. That’s not the way out of my trap, no…

Nodding once with sincere affection before turning away, Valya silently vowed to hold a funeral for the memory he still bore like a necrotic abscess, from his very first championship when his wingman left him and Valya’s absolute trust lead to his and his team’s downfall. The wound was not just fresh in his mind because of today’s reunion with Team Hufflepuff, however. During "that stupid bottle game" this summer, he felt like he’d relived it all over again – the terrible fall from on high, slamming into the ground and shattering into a million pieces in the shadow of a giant boy – all just from that look of utter shame on Romeo’s face. That one expression of deep embarrassment was all that was needed to deny the validity of Valentin’s nature, just when it seemed that he might finally be unconditionally loved.

After his first cataclysmic fall, Valentin had endured an arduous hospital recovery only to emerge with the barest tatters of his team remaining – and with Romeo and his wingman gone without even a word of goodbye. After shattering once more to Romeo’s bomb-laden kiss, Valentin found himself again trying to recover, and thus it felt obvious that Romeo would just leave again. Still, although the seeker knew regaining anything like the faith of his youth would be a difficult process, Valentin wanted to learn to trust anew. His team, his loved ones, needed him to do it. This was the only way he could love with the purity of a child again. This was the song from his past that echoed, like a letter to himself, unearthed from the decay of buried memories. Through the ritual of quidditch today, Valentin would teach himself to love again.

“È come ho detto l'anno scorso, Romeo. Se c'è qualcosa che vuoi, chiama il mio nome.” “It's like I said last year, Romeo. If there’s anything you want, please call my name.”

A moment later and Valentin was outside, a drizzle of rain speckling the cloth of his jersey as the brightness of overcast sky blazed into his adjusting vision. Mounting his broom, the captain did his traditional tour of the perimeter and offered high fives to any supporters in the audience who held out their hands. Slowing as he passed, Valentin gave Amina a salute and a short affirmation.

“We’ll win this in your honor, #14. Get well soon so we can get you back in the sky.”

Valentin went on to exchange a half-hug with Slava and offered the same to anyone else on the team who would take one. Grinning and tapping the corner of his eye, Valentin sent Slava the secret message that this was still a good look for him. Flashing a similar smile at Johannes, Valentin’s facial expression complimented the keeper’s handiwork. By now they would both be used to the captain becoming non-verbal when it was quidditch time, and they’d had plenty of time to learn each other’s signals. Valya looked next at Alaric, Greta, Lysander, Madhup, and Niche taking their positions, dipping his head with respect, and waved at their other benched players. Finally, turning to face the stands, Valentin scanned the audience. A glimmer of viridian caught his eye, and the seeker became aware of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. It was time to offer his whole self to the moment, and as the wind fell silent, Valentin submerged into the soundless music of it all.

Base Stats: STA 8 - EVA 20 - STR 3 - WIS 15 [17] - ARC 1 - ACC 15
Total Stats: STA 11 - EVA 23 - STR 6 - WIS 20 - ARC 4 - ACC 18
Abilities:
Keen Eye / Charmer / Evasive Maneuvers / Fearless / Comprehend Languages: Parseltongue
Broom: Silver Arrow (+3 to each stat)
Ency/Trunk: viewtopic.php?f=314&t=17006#p269554
Mentioning: @Ileen Knight as Amina Petrovic
Action: Doing as strategized.

all dialogue in russian unless specified otherwise
interactions @Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky
mentions @Amina Petrovic, @Valentin Schnell, @Romeo Marchonné

Unable to engage in the seasonal stratification of sports activities often described by Hogwarts’ students, the Durmstrang Quidditch team were the final boss battle of sorts. How was it that each house functioned so independently, to the point of their own isolated rivalries, only to culminate in a duke-down against a well-united international front? Johannes, holding only valid Durmstrang pride and generally vague derision for all other wizarding schools, could not imagine that simple house loyalty could best the basic structure of such an individualised school culture. Durmstrang maintained its reputation as a fundamentally competitive and near-ruthless secondary society, but falling into the right crowds practically guaranteed safety considering the fairly hands-off administration. They were not foundationally bound to semi-artificially enforced social bonds, but instead, the poster children of latchkey children with only each other to depend upon in necessity. It was only unfortunate planning that argued Hogwarts against its own student body, and even more misfortune that had resulted in such an interesting Durmstrang roster this summer.

With both Cielle and Charles M.I.A., there had already been a subtle shift of dynamics, but it had all seemed to start with Amina. It had been a risky, near-miraculously cool quaffle save that shouldn’t have succeeded in most scenarios (including this one), but it had been one their glitter bomb had been apparently willing to risk. Johannes, to the side and growing to be the occasional appreciator of decent quaffle games, had been well-prepared to congratulate their chaser for claiming style points, only for the other to meet a healer-worthy completion of their practice. (As it was, he could only imagine their chaser's guilt. Her enthusiasm had been squashed by the limitations of even magical medicine, but he was sure she would not abandon them completely in her recovery.)

Since then, the Durmstrang Quidditch team had received exceptionally strange luck. With each forceful benching, their strings quickly began to shuffle with little of the enforced team bonding that had gone down during last year's training camps. Unable to strike farther than the barest acquaintanceship with their newest members, Johannes had resolved himself to pack in all the final preparations as possible without the stress of feigning interest.

And if an occasionally accompanying Slava had minded his distracted mutterings about the advantageous stubbornness of waterproof pencil liner when faced with the even drizzle that always seemed to accompany Durmstrang's quidditch team... Well, it had done the job. It was his version of eyeblack— modern war paint in its own right— with neither Greta's dramatics nor the garishness of badger stripes. He'd make a proper emo out of their #6 just yet, even if Johannes had to shake off what felt like a disproportionate amount of glitter off of his cloak (He was starting to think Slava's presence simply spawned glitter by this point... it should be illegal to be conceal-carrying so much shine. Maybe glam rock fit their aesthetic better?) before he had slipped on his Keeper gloves.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to a point where Johannes would let the team down enough to be downed, yet one could never be too careful with the inherent danger of Quidditch. Slava, ever the constant and frightfully endearing stitch in his side, had the right idea to approach with such a self-assured grin. He met it with an amiable nod of his own, stoking the slow-growing flame of his excitement to catch him through what would undoubtedly be an absolute showdown. "You know me, but I'll try my best. Don't worry, we'll make everyone proud." It was a strange dynamic he had experienced once before with Cielle, shifting into a sports-inclusionary friendship after so long of keeping his circles separate.

Yet there was an extra layer of complication that lay with the difference in simple team positions. Before Chip had taken a second-string role as such a friendly face, Johann had been functioning just fine as a lone Keeper, without the extra companionship of a partner to truly practise with without pitting their team against each other. (In some vague, lingering sense of maladjustment, sometimes he missed the idea of being so well-depended upon. Their retrospective incapability had been borne out of pure necessity, but it had been all that he had known. Despite this, he knew as well as anyone that all plans needed a contingency, least of all one where every member’s action counted so heavily. The risks far outweighed the benefits. It would be selfish of him to clutch so tightly onto wishful thinking, especially when he enjoyed such authentic friendship with their oblivious #6.)

But regardless of whatever fate he would be given today… he trusted that Durmstrang would be in good hands with their resident Künstlerlein (little artist) as reinforcement.

On the topic of reinforcements, it was a testament to their Captains' growing influence that the newly-dubbed Sárkányok had evolved into an entire two-string strong team. No longer dependent on the hydradization of Koldolvorez's bare minimum, they held both a full bench and at least one of their own in the spectator stands ready for whatever Hufflepuff was to throw at them. The team was playing on Hogwarts' home field with a greatly mixed opponent team, so it was only expected that their scathingly, poetically motivational pregame speeches would carry more weight than usual considering their recent roster stress. Ever willing to indulge in Durmstrang's militaristic habits in the name of unwavering leadership, the seriousness to which both Romeo and Valentin carried themselves truly marked the team's foreign upbringings on Scottish grounds. While the merit of any team sport emphasised collaborative dependence, the spirit of Sárkányok emphasised nothing but the expectation of their best possible performances. There would be no room for silly, avoidable mistakes.

Taking to the air and aiming to occupy his starting position after the customary fly-through, Johannes sent his final anxieties to the sky as Romeo’s war cry echoed off of their opponents’ encircling spectator stands. He didn't quite believe in Stribog — not really, at least not in the same way his Kapitäne professed their adrenaline-fueled reverence — but he could acknowledge a sign of pattern when it appeared. The light rain put them under familiar weather on an unfamiliar pitch, the early evening game christened by previous success.

He could feel the crackling thrill of electricity in the air just yet.

Action: Arriving. As strategised.

Alma stretched her arms out above her head and cracked her knuckles, readying herself for another day on the pitch. With each game, she got more and more comfortable in the sky, her fear of sports officially dissolved into a thing of the past. Although it was sad to lose her teammate Rita, she was happy to see her best friend in the air with her at the start of the match. She flew up next to @Avery McCall, giving her a playful elbow to her shoulder. “Ready, first-string?” she asked with a smile.

Stats: EVA - 5 | STR - 5 | WIS - 10 | ARC - 7 | ACC - 5 | STA - 4

Broom: Comet 180 - +2 acc, +1 eva, +1 sta
Abilities: Perfectionist
Savior

Madhup's entrance bore its typical bravado. He coasted in the midst of his team, blowing kisses and making faces into the stands, shaking balled fists above his head in premature celebration. "Wake up your nurse, little Hog Warts!" The snide player was a known cheat, almost more prone to penalties than any actual play, notorious as they come. The Foulplay artist was so devoted to his team that he'd gladly trade detention for a win. When he sidled in alongside his comrades, the scheming glint in his eye made it impossible to discern if he was ready to claim the quaffle, or hellbent on crashing into the first Hogwarts student he met eyes with.

Plotting Per Strategy

Silver Arrow broom (+3 to all stats)
STA: 9 12 | EVA: 13 16 | STR: 12 15 | WIS: 3 6 | ARC: 3 6 | ACC: 15 18
Foulplay, Interception, Fearless, Calming Presence
Calming Presence Allies: Team Durmstrang!