Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > The Blood Bowl Omnibus > Status Update

‘First blood,’ Dirk shouted over the roar of the crowd. ‘So much for your damned cup.’
‘What an amazing play!’ Bob said. ‘The Reavers state their case to be crowned champions by picking up a quick score.’
‘But they seem to have bought their point with blood,’ Jim said. ‘I count one, two, three Reaver casualties on the field already, and they don’t look like they’re getting up.’

The Hackers lost the toss and set up down at the west end of the field to kick-off the ball. The Darkside Cowboys, a team composed entirely of dark elves dressed in black and blue uniforms, jogged down to the east end to receive.

‘What’s the first thing I told you about Blood Bowl?’ Slick said.
Dunk had to think back about that one. ‘When someone offers you a contract, get it in writing?’
‘Yes! But that’s not what I meant. What else?’
‘Never shower with an orc?’
Slick nodded. ‘That’s a good one too, but it’s not what I meant. What else?’
‘It’s only a foul if the ref sees it?’

Cavre pulled Dunk to the back of the tent again and raised the flap for him to scoot under. Just before he went, Dunk looked back at the creature and saw its blistering flesh burst into flames.
‘May Nurgle never find your soul,’ Dunk whispered as he left the tent. Cavre, the covered cup tucked under his arm like a football, followed close on his heels.

‘Why, Dunk Hoffnung,’ Lästiges said. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never witnessed an orgy before.’
Dunk blushed six shades of red. ‘Um, sure I–’ He shook his head. ‘Wait, I mean, no.’ He looked at the dark-haired woman out of the corner of his eye. ‘Have you?’
Lästiges giggled and flashed a hungry smile. ‘A lady never tells.’
‘So what’s holding you up?’ Slick asked.

‘What idea?’ Lästiges said from behind. The camra, which had been taking in the scene from high in the trees, floated down to focus tight on the cleric’s face.
‘Rob from the rich and give to the poor,’ Brother Puck said, fat tears rolling down his pale, dirt-crusted face.

The bottom of Dunk’s stomach fell out. Even as Pegleg spoke, the thrower knew what his coach was going to say. As much as he dreaded it, he couldn’t turn away.
‘We’re going to Albion, my Hacker dogs!’ A mad light of greed danced in Pegleg’s eyes. ‘There, we’ll find the Far Albion Cup and bring it back to dominate the Blood Bowl League – or die trying!’

‘Them?’ Cavre said softly. ‘They’re recruiters for the Deathmasques, an all-undead team. That blonde one in the middle is their coach, Rann Ice.’
Slick scowled. ‘It used to be those bloodsuckers would at least wait until nightfall before coming around, looking for fresh kills. Damn Sun Protection Fetishes. SPFs like those have ruined the traditional night games.’

‘The crowd is not happy about this!’ Jim said.
‘No, Jim, they’re not. I haven’t seen a referee show such a blatant disregard for the rules and for any sense of fair play since the Athelorn Avengers played the Dwarf Giants.’
‘Bob, that was only last week!’

As he passed by Dirk, Dunk spiked the ball right into his brother’s helmet. It bounced high off Dirk’s head and landed in the stands. The fans there went wild, screaming, ‘Dunk! Dunk! Dunk!’
Dirk stood up and beckoned for his older brother to come over to him. When Dunk complied, the two butted their helmets against each other like rutting rams.
‘All right,’ Dirk said. ‘You wanna play? Let’s go!’