S.L.O.G. entered the frozen pitch, plowing confidently through the blizzard. It was some time before the Hairdressers deigned make their entrance... only after donning the lastest in horseracing fashion hats to cover the shambles that is their hair.
S.L.O.G. received the kick, which meant the Death Roller moved across the tundra menacingly. Kick received and the S.L.O.G. began their slog, a couple spaces a move, with a special view to destroying the elf wrestlers. This they finally achieved in their eighth move, and elven casualties mounting, to say nothing of destroyed $200 hair do's. Elves played bravely.
Then the swift elves mounted a quick TD attempt, assisted by a quick start from kickoff. Pesky creature grabbed the ball and went hell for leather. Blizzard blinded the dwarf defenders and the elf dodged easily thru the tackles until he reached the end zone, where dwarf fans had poured their beer, making a treacherous ice patch, and down the wretched creature fell, stunned.
Second half, elves came out after hot showers and adjusted head gear (hats kept blowing off in first half: they used scarves this time). The elf thrower, arrogant and over-confident as usual, sprinted to pick up a sideline kick, forgetting about the dwarf fans' beer trick. Down he went, ball into the crowd, who, being dwarf fans (as were all the front rows), fired it back to the dwarf pack, which was woefully out of position, due to refusing to come off at half time for a break, instead imbibing beer donated by admiring fans.
Dwarf runner got the ball, but neglected to hand off to the pack, and was consequently battered, the ball coming loose, to be chased after by both teams for several turns. Eventually the elves managed to pick it up and scored with nearly no time left.
Overtime. Deathroller rolling out again. Again the dwarfs refused to leave the field for a break. It showed. They lined up in a horrendous position, and after a great kick, the runner was unable to get to safety. A couple turns pushing and shoving in the dwarfs back-field, and the elf blitzer emerged with the ball and a gift TD. Dwarf coach was, as it should be, not only fired, but sent to work on the furnaces. Dwarfs have a realistic view of coaching.
Elves partied with an all nighter. More of that later.
The second semi-final of this year's Spring Championship saw the Varmints o' Doom facing off against their old rivals, the Orcianapolis Boltz. A capacity crowd of 54,000 screaming fans provided a suitable backdrop for the thriller that was about to unfold.
The rats hadn't been able to beat the Orcs in their previous two encounters this season and were eager to rectify this situation, but at first it seemed that fortune would favour the Orcs once more as they won the coin toss and opted to receive. The Boltz took the ball and set up for the big grind up the field... but the Skaven had other plans.
About halfway during the first half, no less than three Orcs and a Troll were off the pitch and their drive had come to a grinding halt.
During the ensuing midfield-melee, the Boltz managed to get equal on player numbers again
and started to inch forward towards the Varmints' endzone again.
Just before half-time the Orcs' star Blitzer "Bok da 'edbutta" made a run for the endzone, doging his way through the remaining rat defenders... but one of those many hands, feet and tails between him and the endzone managed to trip him up and Orcianapolis remained scoreless.
The scond half saw a quick opening score from the Varmints... as was to be expected. This handed the initiative back to the Orcs, who now had plenty of time to score an equaliser and take the match into overtime.
This time the Boltz executed their grind up the filed as if it was a practise match and after a long and exeedingly painful (for the rats anyway) rest of the half, the score was even again... this meant overtime!
Nuffle made up his mind in the end and decided to stay with the Orcs after all, as they won the coin toss again and set up to receive the ball.
At this stage of the match, the reserves box on both sides looked a rather depleted, but the Orcs had a few players more on the pitch than the vermin... and it began to show.
Despite their best efforts, the Varmints were not able to hold back the Boltz, who were slowly steamrollering their cage up the field once again. In the end resistance faltered and the "Bok da 'edbutta" ran the ball over the line for his second TD in the game (14 this season) and a 2-1 victory for the Orcs.
When hairdressers get angry...
Rumours of bribery and corruption abound after the long-awaited final of the Altdorf Brewers and Ball Fumblers spring championship was delayed and rescheduled... to the Dingly Dell Hair Salon home ground! Ostensibly because of “better lighting”, sources say the lack of fungus beer in the new stadium was a sign of the extent to which matters had been fixed. On being offered “herbal tea”, most of the Orcianopolis Boltz fans walked out of the stadium (not before smashing every tea stall in sight).
If you’ve never seen a hairdresser get angry, I can assure you it is not a pretty sight. Star receiver Guy (“What’s a cage?”) Goldilocks was sorely missed during the semi-final against the SLOG. Rumour has it that he was discovered after a frantic search by the Dingleberries management “spending time with mummy”. It is not know what persuaded him to return, perhaps it was his outrageous match fee of 200,000 gold pieces, perhaps it was finding out that his “friend” and partner, Toni (as in Toni & Guy) had suffered a smashed collarbone and consequent permanent loss of dexterity in the semis [afficionados will know that there is no greater disgrace for a professional hairdresser: death is preferable].
Anyway, the Boltz must have done some of the pre-match bribery and corruption right, as they won the kick-off and duly prepared to pound the hairdressers into the turf – or so they thought. Becks (star kicker for the Dingleberries) dropped a perfect kick, Guy ran in, sacked the ball carrier, and the hairdressers scampered home for the first score. Undeterred, the Boltz resumed their positions, only to suffer exactly the same fate a second time... And a third... With the score 3-0 at half time, the Dingleberries finally got to receive, Guy duly running in the ball with ease for a quick score. Now 4-0 up, Guy finally decided it was time to go back to mummy for tea and scones, and the match petered out with no further trouble for the scorers.
Rumours abound in the grey market for performance-enhancing drugs after two “cheerleaders” of uncertain gender orientation were seen entering the Dingleberries dugout shortly after the beginning of the match bearing large firkins of “herbal brew”. Insiders say it may have been the last of Dingleberries’ chief medico Wakibaki’s secret stash. Wakibaki himself is unavailable for comment, still being detained for questioning in the “unfortunate” steroid abuse scandal reported earlier. In any case, apart from a couple of long-suffering linemen on the line of scrimmage, the hairdressers again refused to die.
The Head Coach of the Boltz was later spotted in a well-known hostelry drowning his sorrows in a large tankard of “authentic” Middenheim fungus beer, puffing on an oversized madcap mushroom cigar – said to have been hand-rolled on an Orc cheerleader’s thigh... [I think we’d better stop there – Ed.].
[Statisticians may care to know Guy’s stats: 8357 Catch, Nerves of Steel, Dodge, Wrestle, Tackle, 57 SPPs]
Well sports fans! What a slug-fest your intrepid reporter was privileged to view! At great personal risk to life and limb, I now bring you the full match report.
The day dawned bright and sunny. Both teams were up early doing last-minute training, despite the kick-off time of 1830hrs. The rats went in for a midday siesta to recoup their strength, while the dwarves were mercilessly drilled by their ruthless coach. Come the match, could this prove their salvation or undoing?
At the pre-match press conference, the two coaches glared at each other over the microphones, promising all sorts of injury, death and runaway scores. At the coin toss things hadn't improved much, with Greg 'Haggard' Hagg swearing on his mother-in-law's beard that his team would 'slowly barbeque them little munchy things, just you wait and see. Muhahahahaha.' In response, 'Stormin' Norman, the rats' head coach, said that he wasn't all that worried, seeing as how the rats had done the dwarves over quite nicely in their last encounter thank you very much, and were just waiting for kick-off to do the same again.
So to the match. 56,000 screaming fans had turned out to see the match, slightly more dwarves in the mix than rats, could this be an omen?
And the coin toss came down in favour of: dem Varmints O' Doom! Yes, the rat fans in the stands whooped and hollered, while the dwarves chewed their beards and nibbled their chainmail nervously.
Setup was brisk and workmanlike and the kickoff was made under beautiful skies.
Sadly, that's as far as the beauty went. This reporter, hardened though he is through years of violence, has never seen such a display of blood and gore as was revealed last night. The rats took up from where they left off in the previous game. The rat ogre immediately blitzed the nearest dwarf straight towards the sideline, aiming to give the stunty some crowd-surfin' fun. The rats' frontline knocked the unfortunate dwarves around and left them all lying on the turf. As per the rats' master game-plan, the nearest gutter runner scooped up the ball and presented it neatly to his team-mate who was waiting in a pre-created pocket.
More of the same for the next three turns, as the dwarves struggled to comprehend the single-minded purpose of the furry ones. After turn four, the dwarves found themselves a touchdown behind, and already suffering three casualties, including one rather severe case of Death which the apothecary managed to cleverly disguise as a Niggling Injury. Lucky there, Mr Dwarf.
So roll on the dwarves first chance at offence. Spurning their deathroller ('We're saving that for full-on mayhem in the second half'), they set out to mangle the rats something proper. With four turns left, no! Make that 5 turns left, the crowd rioted and the timekeeper got a bit confused! The dwarves were out for blood, and it really didn't matter to them if a few rats got hurt on the way.
They formed up their usual cage, and marched the ball slowly but surely up the pitch. The rats were unable to stop the cage despite a number of them throwing themselves under the dwarves' iron-clad boots as speed bumps. Even bribery couldn't stop the inexorable grind. The rats deployed one of their famous pit traps (thank you Mr. Groundskeeper) which knocked the star dwarven ball-carrier onto his stunty botbot and freed the ball up, but the shrtarz managed to get back up, regather the ball and go for it into the endzone to equalise. But at what cost? Another three of his teammates had been removed into the Knocked Out bin in the process, and the stunties were running low on numbers.
As was eloquently proved by the fact that the rats had one last chance late in the first half to get ahead in the scoring stakes. The Dwarves were so short on players that the dread roller had to make up numbers. The rats' coach was rejoicing that his team would only (thank you Nuffle) have to face this contraption for a grand total of: One Turn! At kick-off the dwarves went long and it paid off, with the rats having to make a pass from a gutter runner to their star one-turn touchdown machine to get the ball upfield. The rat ogre managed to blitz again, and after a bit of mindless violence around the line of scrimmage, the sprinting gutter was off! Zooming downfield, he whistled past the dwarven back-line, pausing only ling enough to turn his head and sneer at them in passing. But Lo! This was to prove his downfall as so many times in the past. Nuffle turned his fickle eye to the player and caused him to fail his last dodge roll into the endzone. With the ball still in play, the dwarves stopped laughing quite quickly as they realised that here was a Nuffle-sent chance to get even. Gathering round the downed unfortunate, they called over their specialist team-mate in such matters for a 'matter of consultation'. Unfortunately for him, the ref managed to spot the foul and sent him off to cool his heels for the rest of the match. To rub salt in the wound, the gutter runner was patched up and sent back into the fray for the second half. No damage! Nor was there any damage to any of the seven rats that the SLOGs had managed to KO in the first half. They all came back after the coach's sponge worked its usual wonders.
So to the second half. Sadly for the dwarves, now down to seven bodies on the pitch with one in the KO bin vs a full roster plus two reserves for the furred team, the rats managed to get the jump on the shorties and blitzed at the kick-off. With the ball right on the line of scrimmage, another dwarf was added to the KO bin while the rats gathered round trying to catch it. Oops, one touchback later, and the dwarves were down to six team members. But they had the ball in hand!
There's really not much to add from this point that hasn't already been said. The rats' Dirty Player earned his keep, fouling another dwarf off into the KO tent in the second turn. The dwarves coughed up the pill, the rats took advantage and scampered in for a 2-1 lead after the fifth turn of the half. Despite some brilliant sponge work by the short trainer, the dwarves were now down to five, that's right sports fans, FIVE players at kick-off. The rats took every advantage of this, bashing the snot out of everything with a beard. By turn seven, the dwarves were facing an uphill battle the likes of which they'd never even contemplated in training. The rats had the ball just out from the dwarven endzone, the dwarves had three players left on the pitch, and none of them were interested in anything more than being sent off by the ref for deliberately attempting a foul! At the close of the match, the rats had removed another dwarf from the sward and scored in the last turn. This left two opposition members on the pitch at the final whistle: a novice runner who was too stupid to realise he was in danger, and a wily old pro Troll Slayer who had managed to dodge all the harm befalling his fellows.
Blood is back folks, and it was back in spades at last nights' match. The rats went the whole match unhurt barring a few temporary Knock Outs, while the dwarves finished up with three casualties, three sending offs for fouling (four if you count the deathroller) and four in the KO tent. Oh, and a 3-1 loss too.
Just to rub salt into the wound, the MVPs went to the dwarf who got the Niggling Injury and a completely unremarkable linerat who did nothing all match. Woot for the judging panel.
Winnings were calculated as follows: dwarves 60,000gps, rats 140,000gps.
What a game, folks, what a game. Catch the replay on Cabalvision later in the week. This is your reporter signing off for the season. |
