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amo10690 rolled 10 10-sided dice:
10, 3, 4, 7, 9, 5, 1, 3, 8, 2
Total: 52 (10-100)
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amo10690 rolled 1 20-sided dice:
15
Total: 15 (1-20)
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Graydon Ironshield rolled 1 20-sided dice:
7
Total: 7 (1-20)
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 Posted: Sat May 16, 2015 8:08 am
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Posted: Sat May 16, 2015 5:29 pm
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Graydon Ironshield rolled 1 20-sided dice:
13
Total: 13 (1-20)
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Posted: Sat May 16, 2015 5:36 pm
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Posted: Tue May 19, 2015 9:51 pm
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Posted: Tue May 19, 2015 9:55 pm
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The Forgotten Weasley Crew
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2015 6:20 pm
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Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day!
The sun is up, the sky is blue...
It's beautiful and so are you!
Dear Prudence, open up your eyes.
Dear Prudence, see the sunny skies.
Look around, round and round-
p r u d e n c e
" p r u "
l o w e r y gryffindor fourth year │ captain & keeper │ pureblood Pru put down all the stuff she'd been lugging and levitating with her wand, and flopped onto the grass in a very undignified manner for the new team captain. She was trying to tell herself that she deserved this position, and failing. The only reason she had it was because Julius had died before picking a vice captain. Only then did she even realize she'd been beat there by Arianna, and flushed. "Hi, Arianna. Good to see you." Perfect. She wasn't even the first one there. She staggered to her feet, shuffling a stack of papers. "Uh, can you fill one of these out?" She felt awkward, because the older girl had been coming to tryouts for years, but rules were rules.
[b]Username:[/b]
[b]Character's Name:[/b]
[b]House:[/b]
[b]Year:[/b]
[b]Advanced Flying I:[/b]
[b]Advanced Flying II:[/b]
[b]Years of Previous Quidditch playing:[/b]
[b]Any Special Skill:[/b]
[b]First Choice Position:[/b]
[b]Second Choice Position:[/b]
The wind is low, the birds will sing...
That you are part of everything!
Dear Prudence, let me see you smile.
Dear Prudence, like a little child.
The clouds will be a daisy chain,
So let me see you smile again. |
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2015 7:17 pm
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xxxxxxxx█████████ ＧＩＶＥ Ａ ＬＩＴＴＬＥ xxx __××
xxxxxxxxx ᵍᶤᵛᵉᵃˡᶤᵗᵗˡᵉ xxx ʰᵉᵃʳᵗᵃᶰᵈᶳᵒᵘˡ xxx ᵍᶤᵛᵉᵃˡᶤᵗᵗˡᵉ xxx ʷʳᵃᵖʸᵒᵘʳᵃʳᵐᶳᵃʳᵒᵘᶰᵈ xxx ᵍᶤᵛᵉᵃˡᶤᵗᵗˡᵉ
xxxxxxxxxxxx sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴏ xxxxxxx ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ sᴜsᴘᴇɴsᴇ
xxxxxxxxx ❝ ＯＨ ＯＨ ＯＯＨＨ ❞ xxx ⊰♠⊱ xxx ▬▬▬
Ａᴛᴛɪʀᴇ ﹕﹕ [x]
Ｊᴀᴍs ﹕﹕ [x]
Ｍᴏᴏᴅ ﹕﹕ Pumped
Ｌᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ﹕﹕ Try Outs
Ｃᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴs ﹕﹕ Gryffindors
Ｔʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ﹕﹕ '..............'
Position:
AC: 12
Modifiers: +4 to Catch Quaffle
Special Skills: Great Catch, Hold the Line, Deft Dodger
Lives: [ o ] [ o ] [ o ]
With a running start, Dante leapt onto the field, an explosive ball of energy as he darted about. Stopping only to catch his breath, Dante fell to his knees as he approached the older students, flailing his arms out before landing in a breathless heap on the grass. ”I’m fine… just leave me here… It’s all good… Hi!” Springing back up, the boy took a deep breath in before clearing his throat. ”Dante Bianchi! Reporting for duty, ma’am!” He said gleefully, In that same breath, the boy flared out in an abrupt fashion, locking his body into some awkward-looking position, and with a deep breath Dante began some strange interpretation of the Sun Salutation.
Username: Forks Anonymous
Character's Name: Dante Bianchi
House: Gryffindor
Year: First
Advanced Flying I: N/A
Advanced Flying II: N/A
Years of Previous Quidditch playing: None
Any Special Skill: Great Catch, Hold the Line, Dang Healthy
First Choice Position: Keeper
Second Choice Position: Anything
Dᴀɴᴛᴇ Zᴏʀʀᴏ Bɪᴀɴᴄʜɪ / / Pᴜʀᴇ Bʟᴏᴏᴅ / / Gʀʏғғɪɴᴅᴏʀ / / . . . / / Tᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ Hᴀʟғ / / Pɪɴᴋ Iᴠᴏʀʏ Wᴏᴏᴅ / / Pʜᴏᴇɴɪx Fᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ Cᴏʀᴇ
{ OOC ;; ... }
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2015 3:04 pm
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 ════════════════════════
Sɪxᴛʜ Yᴇᴀʀ |❻| Gʀʏғғɪɴᴅᴏʀ Pʀᴇғᴇᴄᴛ |❻| Hᴀʟғ-Bʟᴏᴏᴅ
════════════════════════
Text .
It was a beautiful day for flying, thought Dani as she walked out toward the pitch with her broomstick slung over her shoulder. With bright sunshine, and only high wispy clouds aloft it was perfect weather for tryouts. Wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a tank top, over which her oversized Holyhead Harpies jersey was worn, and a pair of trainers, Dani was dressed as she customarily was for what was usually the beginning and end of her flying season. Five years of waiting her turn had done much to dampen her enthusiasm, and the events of last spring made her feel almost as though she were walking over somebody's grave.
Dani was trying hard to be optimistic about her team's chances this year, but it was difficult to be upbeat. They could have won the Cup last year, but Slytherin was just too good to beat, and now their best shot in years was gone. She didn't envy Pru; the younger girl was going to have to work to stitch together a winning formula this year. Graduations and death took its toll on their roster.
'If I make the first team this year, its only because Julius died,' Dani told herself. It was a hard thing to accept, but then truths were many things, and comfortable wasn't one of them. She'd hoped she would get some kind of break this year, but this wasn't how she wanted it. She also didn't fault Professor Harlowe for passing her over and picking Pru to lead the team. 'I haven't proven I'm good for anything yet,' she concluded. Still, it looked odd having a Fourth Year as Captain, and likely a Third Year as Vice Captain, but the team would have a seasoned continuity of leadership for years to come.
No matter what, though, Dani resolved not to make things any more difficult for Pru than they would be already. 'Time to fly, have some fun and a few laughs,' Dani told her herself. 'I only get to do this one more time.'
"Hi," she said, with a slight smile. "Looks like we should have a good turn-out this year. Congratulations, Pru; I'm sure we'll do fine this year." Dani collected a form and a quill and started filling it out, before started doing her stretches.
Username: Graydon Ironshield
Character's Name: Danica Stewart
House: Gryffindor
Year: Sixth
Advanced Flying I: Yes
Advanced Flying II: Yes
Years of Previous Quidditch playing: Five (three years Reserve Chaser, two years Reserve Seeker
Any Special Skill: Natural Flyer, Great Catch, Hold the Line
First Choice Position: Seeker
Second Choice Position: Keeper
Position:
AC: 18
Modifiers: +10 to Block, +8 to Catch Snitch, +6 to Spot (if my math is correct. Somebody please check me)
Special Skills: Natural Flyer, Great Catch, Hold the Line
Lives: [<3] [<3] [<3]
Action:
Effect Value:
Result:
Pursuit: 0/0
Capture: 0/0
════════════════════════
OOC:
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The Forgotten Weasley Crew
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2015 8:47 pm
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Your eyes are wide shut but you know...
Buried alive by the lies in your soul...
Your stride is a blind man's stroll;
Well, for whom does the next bell toll?
So if you want to push, I'm gonna shove.
If you want to spar, we can do it without gloves.
If you're gonna run at me, you'd better do it hard;
I fear no fall, no brawl, no scars.
A S T E R I A
C E C I L Y
F R E Y
second year │ gryffindor │ muggleborn
Aster trooped out onto the pitch, a determined look on her face. She'd heard a second year making first string was rare, so she at least wanted reserve. And she wanted beater reserve, not to get shuffled into some other position. She'd make it happen if she had to duel someone for the spot. Not that she really knew how to duel. Point was, she was getting on this team. She'd always been picked first for games as a kid, surely that sort of thing carried over.
Username: The Forgotten Weasley
Character's Name: Asteria Frey
House: Gryffindor
Year: Second
Advanced Flying I: No
Advanced Flying II: No
Years of Previous Quidditch playing: None
Any Special Skill: Natural Flyer, Mean Swing, Deft Dodger
First Choice Position: Beater
Second Choice Position: BEATER
OOC: Position: Beater
AC: 14
Mods: +2 Bludger Hits
Special Skills: Natural Flyer, Mean Swing, Deft Dodger
Lives: (X) (X) (X)
I'm one shade short of alarm;
I'm so far past wrath that I'm calm.
Now you see, a wise man learns from your mistakes,
And lets the blunders of his fellows serve to fill his plate.
So you'd best be on your way before the tidal wave breaks;
You don't want to come to meet the reaper that awaits.
You don't want to say any more than a mime; you can't afford-
And you don't want to let this turn into lines of mine and yours. |
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