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Thread: Ravenclaws take to the pitch with high hopes!

  1. #1

    Ravenclaws take to the pitch with high hopes!

    Okay, girls, let's do this! Gryffindor is behind, too, so we're not alone. Remember our order:


    Aaaaaaaaand....begin! *blows whistle*

    It was a wonderful day for a Quidditch. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and--the teams were...yelling?

    "Settle down!" called Gabriel Resolde as he stepped out from behind his flap. The raven stood out on his blue uniform. "I know you're excited, but we need to be composed."

    "It ain't every day you make it to the first World Cup final, Gabriel!" yelled one of the beaters, blond-haired Cellon Lemand.

    "If not for me, then, for dear Rowena's name, quiet down!" the captain roared.

  2. #2
    red and gold
    "Aye, Captain," said Markus Haven. The tall, handsome Chaser ran his fingers through his wavy, brown hair nervously. He looked intently at the throng of spectators. "' 'Tis a goodly amount gathered already!"

    Abel Nabemheld laughed loudly. "You believe any will look at you when one has such as myself to focus on?" he said, flexing his large muscles as he swung his Beater's club. He slapped Markus good-naturedly on the shoulder causing Haven to lose his balance and drop his broom.

    "The Quidditch World Cup is serious business, gentlemen!" growled Avenal. "Stop your nonsense!"
    This has 95 words. 50 characters spammity spam spam

  3. #3
    The young seeker suppressed a snort with difficulty. Her hair was hidden beneath a shortly cut wig and unless you were searching for them beneath her bulky robes you couldn't see the breasts cleverly hidden by them. But with the vast amount of testosterone in the air, she did not know how long her disguise would last.

    Regardless, she leapt in with the rest of them. She, Elaina Cadala, the first woman on a professional team, was impersonating a man after all.
    This post is 82 words in length.


  4. #4
    “Hey, come on now lads!” Tristan called out, smiling broadly, his curly black hair fluttering in the wind. “Avenal’s right, this is the first World Cup match!”

    “Thank you Tristan,” Avenal replied, looking surprised since Tristan never agreed with him.

    “So what do you say that we show him a good time,” he continued. “Loosen him up a bit!”

    Before Avenal could ask what he meant, he was pushed off his broom into a mud puddle. Tristan piled on top of him and beckoned for the others to follow. Able and Cellon grinned maniacally and piled on top of them.
    Word Count: 100. *sweat drop* That was close....


  5. #5
    Gabriel smacked his hand to his forehead. He loved his team--they were all like brothers to him--but sometimes, they were idiots. Big, fat idiots.

    "Break it up!" he called, though he couldn't keep the humor from his voice. He pulled Able and Cellon off first, who were fit to burst with laughter, then the new seeker, who seemed rather uncomfortable when he hauled him up and set him on his feet. "Five minutes left, everyone huddle up." He sighed and walked to the center of the tent, broom in hand. "And no riding brooms in the tent!"
    99! *phew* spammyspamspamstupid50characterlimitgoshdammit.

  6. #6
    red and gold
    Avenal Casten rose to his feet, spitting mud and muck from his mouth. He grabbed his broom and stalked angrily to the tent. Laughing, the rest of the players entered the tent and one by one circled around their Captain.

    Gradually, the noise turned to quiet anticipation as each player looked at the Captain. Markus Haven shifted from foot to foot, pre-match jitters starting to get the better of him. He hadn't been able to choke down any breakfast and in the stillness of the tent, his stomach gave a huge, loud rumble.

    "Sorry," muttered Haven, red-faced.
    This has 98 words. *50 character lalala spam-a-lot*

  7. #7
    The new seeker, Evan, was the only one not laughing at Markus. He walked over to his bag and pulled something out of it. He-or rather she- handed him a roll of bread and said in an imperious voice that barely hid her true gender, "Eat, now."

    Markus blushed even more and the rest of the team (who had stood silently shocked at the spectacle) burst into laughter once again. Elaina wondered why she had offered herself up to this again. She had been refused once for being a woman. Maybe this was why.
    94 words *phew*.... I haven't gotten that close yet... Which isn't saying much since I've only gone once.

  8. #8
    After this it's time for the order. (or we just screw that altogether and call spots. How about that? Just don't post after every single one if you posted before it. [Like, if I post then Miki posts, I can't post until someone else does. Savvy?])

    "Okay, listen up!" Silence fell once again as the captain began to speak. "This is it, boys. We've worked long and hard for this day. We've even lost a seeker to get here." Everyone bowed their heads thinking of the man Evan had replaced. " Tristan, Avanel, Markus--their keeper is one of the best, use every trick you know. Abel, Cellon, watch those bludgers and keep an eye out. Evan!" The young seeker snapped to attention. "We need that Snitch as fast as you can possibly get it. We can't give them any time to pull fouls on us!"
    100 exactly!


  9. #9
    red and gold
    From outside the tent, a loud whistle blast was sounded.

    "Very well, gentlemen. For glory, for honour and for the Cup!" the Captain yelled. The players responded with a resounding cheer, raising their fists in the air. With adrenaline pumping and the excitement building, they left the tents in high spirits and trotted out towards the pitch.

    The audience was on their feet, sporting their team's colors and calling out the names of their favorite players. It was a heady potion, indeed - and the players reveled in it. They couldn't keep the grins from spreading across their faces.
    This has 98 words (again. Must be my lucky number!)

  10. #10
    I'm using this post to help mark out Tristan's big character flaw: showboating.

    As Tristan flew around the edge of the pitch, he waved and blew kisses to the female fans calling his name.

    “Tristan, is that really necessary?” Cellon called from behind.

    “I can’t disappoint my adoring fans,” he replied, not looking.

    The Beater just sighed and waved to his own fans, but not with as much grandiose as the Chaser. A minute later, Cellon noticed something that Tristan didn’t.

    “Tristan! In front of you!” he yelled.

    But it was too late. Tristan smashed right into one of the basket poles, too absorbed in showboating to see what lay in his path.
    100 words again....

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