Blood Bowl Community Team – Part 1

"Apple groves as far as the eye can see." said <lineman 1>.

"What did you expect?" replied <thrower>. "Sauerapfel is known for that, after all. So stop grumbling, we'll get to more inhospitable places soon enough."

   "Not to mention that we can't be picky at the moment anyway." Coach <name> intervened, clearly showing that his mood was dampened. His facial expressions were capable of filling entire books with descriptions of bad moods, and if the boys didn't know better, he could have been mistaken for a dwarf, about to collect his thoughts for an entry in the big Book of Grudges.

   "We don't have the manpower!" he finally began and started talking himself into a rage, first quietly, then getting louder.

   "We lack the match experience. We lack the money to compete in the better leagues. Hell, we lack just about everything to pass for a Blood Bowl team!".

   Angrily, Coach <name> stood up and hurled a bucket that was sitting on the front deck of the ship. The vessel was a passenger ferry, with a large paddlewheel on the left and right sides of its hull keeping it in motion. The paddle wheels, in turn, gained their momentum from a so-called running crew, a couple of rather large guys who were constantly running faster or slower inside a smaller wheel that was located on the inside of the hull and connected to the outer wheel. The momentum of the throw carried the wooden bucket over the railing, causing the halfling, who was the captain of the ship, to shout loudly "That costs extra!" from the helm.

     The ferry on the Reik now ran daily between the Moot and Averland. The area that passed from one county to the next was called the Aver Reach, and was worth passing through for many who were on their way to Zhufbar, the dwarven port city.

   "Shove it!" yelled Coach <name>, flinging a gold coin he had hastily dug out of his pants at the halfling.

"I'd hire you as a player with that attitude to have the field teach you manners, but I can't even get rookies for those few pennies!" he spat after the captain.

   "I'd do it," a voice suddenly sounded behind him.

   The remaining players and Coach <name> turned around in surprise. It was one of the men from the running team who, while still running continuously in the wheel, had turned his head slightly and spoke to the team.

   Another man sitting on a bench next to the wheel now stood up and walked to the wheel. He waved to the man who had just spoken and took his place as he left the wheel with an elegant leap.

"You want to play for Blood Bowl for the team?" laughed <lineman 1>, looking at the runner deprecatingly.

   "At least I can move!" retorted <lineman 2>.

"That won't help you against a decent block either!" said <lineman 1> snarling, and even as he spoke he lashed out, intending to put a haymaker between <lineman 2>'s eyes.

The latter, however, dived and jammed his fist into the pit of <lineman 1>'s stomach with an uppercut, followed by a haymaker against the latter's chin. <lineman 1> slumped to the ground, battered prone.

   "Like this?" asked <lineman 2>.

   Coach <name> stepped closer.

   "Tell you what, kid. If you can do that on the field, I'll give you free food and lodging, and if you can make it to the end of the season, I'll give you fifty."

"Fifty gold coins for just one year?" asked <lineman 2> in amazement.

   An amused grin appeared on the faces of the other players.

   "My boy," Coach <name> now said with an auspicious undertone "I'm talking about fifty thousand...!".

As you can see, the background story without names lacks a bit of bite - well, it wouldn't be hard for me to come up with some names, but actually there is a reason for the placeholders. Because here should be YOUR names, or at least a modified version of them.

At the beginning of the year I expressed my intention to keep more contact to the tabletop community. Since I would like to paint my stock slowly but surely, the idea came up to use one of the Blood Bowl teams, which have not yet been assembled in my house, for this project. No sooner said than done. In a vote the participants have decided for an Old World Alliance Team.