Mr. Rayburn Mender, a magical bugs healer at their given location, had been tasked with overseeing the “general” population of adults—so he referred to them as—who, assumedly, had no real experience or need to be around potions at all. While he hoped a more experienced population would be positioned before him, Rayburn has prepared accordingly and tightly gripped his wand in case any lethal mishaps were to occur by the shoddy hands of the participants.
”You are all gathered here today to test your skill in potion brewing. I do hope you have readied yourself and noticed the assortment of materials before you; a set list of instructions will be found to your right so you may properly produce a shrinking solution if all goes well. Take your time. Begin!” He announced to those standing in the ward as he stood by viewing each contestant carefully.
Eugene was no great shakes when it came to potion brewing. After all, he hadn't even made it beyond his first year. Even still, the prize money was worth the shot that he was taking. The other four people within his bracket were all ladies and all obvious to the naked eye to be in better financial situations.
Even so, Eugene was willing to give it a good try. If anything else, it would have been a fun diversion to an otherwise same as usual day.
Once they were bid to begin, Eugene did so and raised his hand once he had finished.
Life as a wife suited Gwenda, but hers was a boundless energy that needed perpetual outlets. Entering the potions competition had been entirely a whim, but now that she was here, Gwenda Cadwallader was determined to not fail abysmally. Rusty though she was, she did her best to produce a passible shrinking solution, tentatively raising a gloved hand when she thought herself more or less finished.
Gwenda speaks with a Welsh accent.
stefanie is my god.
Margaret was deeply disappointed with essentially every member of her age group. She always seemed to grouped with infants. Though she supposed it was less embarrassing for others if they were younger than her while she was still vastly superior in every way. As was her lot in life.
Margaret finished her potion and then stared down the judge until he got the point. Raising her hand was for children.
Cheesecake had literally just turned seven-teen that morning. She was unsure of what that meant for her. Could she do magic and not get yelled at for It? It was exciting and new and she didn't know how it made her feel.
She was the youngest of the group, and that made her nerves skyrocket. It hadn't been a problem when she'd been in school, but now that she was in the adult group... She forced her hands to not shake. She would not let her first competition as an adult be messed up by shaking hands.
Once she finished, she hesitantly raised her hand.
Mr. Mender took a brief viewing of each of the competitors and refrained from indicating any signs of approval or disappointment throughout. That is, until he reached Mrs. Cadwallader's station. The wizard had low expectations for the younger populace, however to view such a disgraceful representation of the given potion yielded nothing but a sour expression that failed to cease. In all honesty, he wasn't even sure what the woman produced other than a mess. To make matters worse, Ms. Sleptova did in fact create a potion, though it wasn't exactly a shrinking solution but a pepperup potion. Mr. Mender was glad she had succeeded in some respect, yet still shook his head as he walked past--this may or may not have been due to the terrible coloration that accompanied the liquid.
"Mr. Reese, Mrs. Callum, and Ms. Whitledge will be continuing to the next round. Mrs. Cadwallader and Ms. Sleptova, I would suggest a fair amount of practice if you wish to compete next year," he stated plainly as each station was cleared of its contents. With a wave of his wand, Mr. Mender conjured the next potion's ingredients and directed the remaining three to the board in front. "Next up is the wit-sharpening potion. I trust you all to produce the correct one this time around -- begin when ready."
He has made it past the first round? Eugene was elated to find that he had apparently improved himself in some aspect. Setting about brewing the next potion, he raised his hand once he had completed it.
Margaret was unsurprised by her success. It was sometimes tiring being so skilled in all things, to be honest.
Margaret brewed her wit-sharpening potion. It wasn't a potion she had much experience with. Clearly she didn't need its effects.
Cheesecake brewed the wit-sharpening potion.
In a turn of events, it appeared as though Ms. Whitledge overtook her competition--only slightly in comparison to Mrs. Callum--when her potion appeared to be relatively normal. Mr. Mender had tried to look for any minor faults and only took note of a slight distasteful odor. Mr. Reese's creation, however, yielded a far different result when his potion blew up a plume of smoke that, as it faded, revealed the man to have bright green hair! A fair effort to abstain from releasing a bout of laughter on the judge's end was given and, to further avoid doing so, he decided to quickly announce the man's failure.
"Mrs. Callum and Ms. Whitledge will be moving onwards while Mr. Reese will take his leave." Mr. Mender stated as his lip quivered while he kept in the few giggles that remained."The both of you will now work to create a love potion antidote. Please begin."
Effects should last only a few days!
Eugene = 4 | Margaret = 9 | Cheesecake = 11
You'll have 72 hours
to post the creation of your potion! The first person to finish theirs will receive a bonus of +1, good luck!
Margaret had been starting to think this was actually quite dull, but she had to admit that her opponent's green hair was very amusing. Other people's suffering due to their own mistakes was always a joy.
Expecting no less than her usual brilliance, Margaret brewed the last potion as instructed.
Cheesecake barely bit back at laugh at the man's green hair. Potion mistakes where always fun. Especially when they resulted in some physical altercation. As long as it wasn't a permanent thing, or some sort of injury. She brewed the antidote.
Mr. Mender had always believed the elder wizarding populace possessed a certain edge over their younger counterparts and this theory of his remained true, at least for this group of experimenting potioneers. Mrs. Callum's potion, although not without fault, overshadowed the dessert-named girl's just enough to ensure her the win. Unfortunately for his own pleasure and twisted sense of humor, the latter's creation hadn't resulted in some odd hairdo or appearance alteration effect, but at least one of the contestants had aided this desire of his so all was not lost.
After a slight pause to build up suspense, the judge cleared his throat and tapped his wand on the desk three times. "Mrs. Callum has advanced to the next round due to her exemplary work. Ms. Whitledge, better luck next time." He finished dismissively, somewhat glad to be done--momentarily, he feared--observing these individual's concoctions.