Prudence Burroughs buttoned her team’s uniform coat over her padded undershirt. It was a dusty orange color reminiscent of autumn leaves. They matched the woods that surrounded the stadium quite nicely. She stood up and smoothed the front of the coat, checking to make sure the undershirt was adjusted properly. It was padded thick through the chest and shoulders and lightly around her stomach. The colonial coat pulled everything in tightly. Prudence stretched and rotated her body from side to side, making sure she had full mobility.
Beside her, her teammates were at similar stages of preparation. Abigail Addams was tying on the matching orange uniform cloak over her coat. It had a short capelet that surrounded her shoulders, while the main portion of the cloak stretched out behind her and down to her calves. Abigail turned around to pick up her gloves. On the back of the capelet was written “ADDAMS” in scrolling black letters. Prudence tied on her own cloak and pulled on the black leather gloves that went up to her elbows.
Outside in the stadium the announcer was introducing the home team. The Boston Warlocks’ Academy Wicks. They were a rough bunch, cold and brutish. Boys. She could hear the crowd clapping and yelling.
“We’re on,” Prudence told the rest of her team.
She took her helmet and broom and headed for the door onto the field.
“And now, welcome to the stadium the Salem Witches’ Institute Flames!” There was the sound of heavy cheering from the visitors’ side of the stadium. Prudence walked out on the field and waved to the crowd. “The team’s captain, Prudence Burroughs leads her team out! The Flames are mounting their brooms to join the Wicks in the sky above the Bay Colony Stadium,” the boy’s voice continued loudly over the crowd.
Prudence was now in the air, streaking past the Salem fans. Almost the whole school was there in the stands, waving orange pennants and setting jets of fire into the air. She smiled and did a swift roll. The other ten members of the Flames followed close behind and matched her movements. Prudence dived down to where the Wicks and the referee were waiting.
She pulled to a halt facing the opposing captain, Just Winterbottom, and flipped her visor up. The helmets they were wearing were fashioned from thick hard dragon hide, reinforced with impervious charms. There was a chinstrap that that held it on tight against their heads. Covering the players’ eyes were glass visors that flipped back over the top of the helmets. Just opened his as well and gave Prudence a wink. The cocky jerk. She grimaced and narrowed her eyes.
“I want a good clean game today captains. Shake hands and let’s get started,” the referee said loudly as she gestured to Just and Prudence.
Just reached out his brown-gloved hand for her to shake, his blue cloak wiping behind him. “Good luck, Prude.”
She squeezed his hand extra hard. “You too, Winterbottom,” she said stiffly.
The both flipped down their visors and got ready for the toss. The referee held the Quod out in front of them.
The announcer was yelling to the crowd, “LET’S PLAY QUODPOT!” The crowd went wild.
The referee threw the Quod into the air. Prudence raced up after it and just before crashing into Just she batted the Quod with the tail of her broom. It soared out toward one of her waiting teammates. She veered right, missing Just and headed down field, following her team.
“The Flames have possession of the Quod! Hawkings is looking to pass!”
The field was three hundred yards in total. At the end of each side were large steaming cauldrons. The Bay Colony stadium had them on ten ft high pedestals, flames burning beneath them. Inside of the cauldrons was a thick dark potion that smelled vaguely of moss. It bubbled and spit droplets outside of the rim. Prudence knew they had anywhere from thirty seconds to ten minutes to get the Quod into the pot on their end of the field.
Abigail Addams reached out and caught the Quod. Her broom screeched to a halt in the air and she looked for someone to pass to. A dozen feet from her, Ann Goodwin spun around and held her arms out. Abigail held the Quod high above her head and with a grunt she threw the leather ball to Ann. Ann caught it and it nearly knocked her back off of her broom. The Academy fans started to cheer, thinking she would fall and loose the Quod. But to their dismay, she recovered quickly and pivoted backwards on her broom. Prudence raced past her, trying to get a decent distance away to progress the Quod down the field. Her dark hair was being pulled out of its tail by the sharp wind and aggressive movements.
“Addams to Goodwin! Looks like Goodwin will send it to the team captain, Burroughs!”
Before Ann could make a pass, she was tackled by two members of the Wicks. They wrestled the Quod out of her hands and quickly passed it sideways to a waiting blue clad player. Prudence swore under her breath.
“The Wicks have it! Goodwin was robbed of the Quod by York and Stephenson! Knutwise catches the pass!”
Around her the Wicks’ fans were chanting. They were still quite a far distance from their pot, hopefully the Quod would explode before they could get it down the field. The Flames’ defensive players zoomed forward to try to block any passing. Once the Quod was in a player’s hands they could advance no farther and had to pass it from where they were. If the defenders could keep the Wicks players far enough away from him he wouldn’t be able to pass, and eventually time would run out and the Quod would erupt, eliminating him.
Send Comments
Yay! Close me and go back to Pyrate M's Fictional Bric-A-Brac