Status Updates From The Blood Bowl Omnibus (Blo...

‘If you make it to the Chaos Cup, we’ll see you there,’ Blaque said. With that, the two Game Wizards left.
Dunk, Dirk, and Spinne stared at the empty doorway for a moment.
Dirk put his arm around his brother. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It can’t get much worse, right?’
Dunk coughed. ‘Did I mention a threat on our lives by a black orc named Skragger?’

Dunk leapt to his feet and saw M’Grash standing in one of the room’s two doorways, jumping up and down with glee like a schoolgirl spotting a pony. Dunk would have smiled at that were it not for the vampire in the skull-emblazoned armour and helmet darting at him.
‘This time, I’ll have the ball and your life!’ The Impaler promised.

Dunk shook his head. ‘Doesn’t that make for a pretty crowded game?’
Slick smiled. ‘It makes for mayhem, son. Beautiful mayhem.’ The spectators roared as an undead player opened another chest that exploded in his face. Slick gestured all around him. ‘You have to give the people what they want!’ he shouted.

Dunk snorted. ‘I suppose it’s better to have the ogre with you than against you. I have to say, though, I thought an ogre would be…’
‘Less sensitive?’
‘That’s it.’
Cavre nodded. ‘Mr. K’Thragsh is a special case. Years back, an Imperial army wiped out his entire village when he was just an infant. He was the only survivor.’
‘That’s horrible.’
‘They were eating the people in the neighbouring village.’

‘Isn’t he a vampire?’ Dunk asked. Even he’d heard of Bob Bifford and his partner Jim Johnson, who Dunk knew was an ogre like M’Grash. ‘How does he do this during the day?’
‘Sun Protection Fetish,’ Slick said. ‘How do you think guys like Hugo “the Impaler” von Irongrad ever manage to play day games? They keep their SPF on them at all times.’

The day of Dunk’s first game dawned bright and painfully early for the young man. His head felt as if M’Grash had decided to stuff it with cotton and use it for a pillow. Fortunately, as the day wore on Dunk felt better and better, and by the time the game rolled around he was ready to play.

Pegleg took one of the contracts back from Dunk and gave the rookie the other. He slid his contract back into the desk, then rose and offered Dunk his hand. Dunk took it and shook it firmly.
‘Welcome aboard, Mr. Hoffnung,’ Pegleg said. ‘May you have a long and exciting career.’

‘My pleasure,’ Spinne said in a voice as smooth as a fine chocolate liqueur. ‘You never mentioned you had a brother,’ she said to Dirk, never taking her eyes off Dunk. ‘Is it Dunk Heldmann then?’
Dunk found he could not reply.
‘Hoffnung, actually,’ Dirk said. ‘Heldmann is my game name.’
Spinne smiled softly at this, and Dunk felt his heart would melt and run out through his boots.

Slick brightened. ‘Right! The various broadcasting companies hire wizards to use the Cabalvision spell to broadcast whatever the spirits in the camras see. Some people pay to have these appear directly in their minds. Others prefer to watch them in their crystal balls. Some of the best pubs have dozens of them, some larger than a wagon wheel, showing all the games played around the Old World at once.’

‘Welcome to the world of Blood Bowl, son. More teams lose out at tournaments from a lack of healthy players than on the pitch. They’re disqualified before they face even their first opponent. You’re only allowed sixteen players on a roster, but you need to be able to put at least eleven players on the field. That doesn’t leave much room for error, given the injury rates in this game.’

‘Because,’ Slick said as he dried Dunk’s shoulder and wrapped it with another rag, ‘it pays better than thievery.’ As he finished up, he patted Dunk on the shoulder and handed him back his bloodstained undershirt. ‘Besides, people who go off looking to pick fights with dragons shouldn’t speak ill of the career choices of others.’
‘I’ll take that under consideration,’ Dunk said.

Gastwirt peered down at Dunk, suspicion etched on his doughy face. ‘How do I know you’re not a ghost come back for your revenge on our fair town?’ he asked. ‘No one else has ever returned from the creature’s cave alive.’
Dunk pulled off his right gauntlet and flung it at the innkeeper. The metal glove smacked Gastwirt right in his bulbous nose and then dropped back down to the ground where Dunk retrieved it.

Gastwirt squinted down at Dunk and then ducked back inside for a moment. When he reappeared, he held a lantern high in one arm, and he peered down again to see who might be so bold as to make such demands. ‘You!’ the innkeeper said, recoiling in horror as he recognised Dunk’s face. ‘You’re supposed to be dead!’

‘Ah,’ Dunk said. He had wondered why the villagers had been so eager to point out the location of this ‘dragon’s’ lair to him. Old Gastwirt had even offered to draw him a map. Now it was clear. They depended on foolhardy heroes like himself to find their way up here regularly to make their regular ‘sacrifices’ to their local menace. In return, the creature left the hamlet alone.