Blood Bowl: 'Ere We Go, vI

by maddokgrotsnik

The Orctown Oldboyz - and their reluctant dwarf coach, Edwyrd Kettlebelly - are headed to the Chaos Cup. They're not expecting to win, but they are looking forward to bashing a few heads. Little do they know just what they'll find themselves up against: an implacable new foe, and a terrifying threat to the Old World. It's time for a plucky underdog story.

25. Chapter 25

On the windswept and misty heaths of the north-eastern reaches of the Empire, occasional travellers wandered, clad only in rags and carrying only crude staffs. Hounded by snarling dire wolves and shivering with the frost, desperately seeking some, any kind of human torchlight shining in the windows of a crude habitation, and the smell of fresh food wafting up from smoking chimneys.

When they arrived at Schwarzkopf, they usually said something like,

"Um…"

"Interesting place," said Edwyrd, gazing admiringly at the architecture. He'd never been in a human town before where he didn't actually have to look up. "Lots of character. I like how the flying buttresses on the church look like they're actually flying."

"Are they meant to splinter like that?" Fourtooth asked, tilting his head.

Cressida, hopping down from the wagon, said,

"I grew up in a little place like this. The pigs ate the cabbage and we ate the pigs. And then fertilised the cabbage. It wasn't much of a life if you were vegetarian and you wanted to achieve more than just bowel movements." She checked her scrap of paper. "Anyway, this is where my team should be having sign-ups."

"They'll probably be in the tavern," Edwyrd said. He nodded towards what appeared to be a particularly impressive pile of unconstituted lumber and peat, set into the nearby hillside. A swinging sign above read,

'THE WARM WELCOME (NO ELVES, VAMPIRES, GOBLINS, GNOBLARS, OGRES, TROLLS, GHOULS, ZOMBIES, FESTERING NURGLINGS OR TIME-WASTERS)'

"Hells of a fine print," Fourtooth muttered, squinting.

Wazguttle was standing at the front door, peering down and inside.

"Waz, go in and get us some rooms," Edwyrd called.

"'K."

"And keep a low profile, all right? We don't want any bother while we're here."

Wazguttle gave him a thumbs-up. He reached up, removed his helmet, and ran a hand through his shock of hair. As if trying it out for the first time, he gave a big, warm, non-threatening smile.

Then he turned and walked through the tavern door, bringing down a large portion of the roof and walls in a cloud of furious dust.