Waterbowl - Autumn League Draw

The Day of the Draw

The rickety cart creaked along the sodden track, each divot causing more coins to fall from the desk to the carriage floor. Edgar Shortbritches stooped to collect the coins, his stubby fingers gripped dubiously earned copper. He hopped back onto his chair. Grinning, Edgar breathed in the heady mixture of the broth boiling in an iron pot, and the creosote on the side of the wagon. The carriage was less than an hour from Wissenton. Less than an hour until the league draw. Less than an hour until the Blue Angry Beavers made more money for ‘King’ Edgar. He let his eyes close, relaxing to the swaying of the K.E.B.A.B Wagon.

Hamwick Pandyweed skipped down Wissenton’s long winding streets. His nose was pulling him towards the market square. Wild boar sizzled on a pit. Biff the Baker’s rolls baked in a stone oven. Frothy mugs of beer overflowed, ready for the thirsty denizens of Wissenton. The Blood Bowl teams were here! Haughty elves looked down on goblins. Humans and Halflings mingled in the square. A bumble of Ogres barely noticed the angry dwarfs that they stepped through, leaving curses and muttering in their wake. The clock closed in on midday. Hamwick grabbed a link of sausages and mug of ale and settled down on a hill overlooking the grandstand.
The Great Worm, the ruler of the local Nuffle League, was ready to pull out the sacred stones to decide on the teams for this year’s events. The clock bell rang and the crowd grew silent. Not even a murmuring snotling could be heard as the Great Worm stepped towards the podium. The figure raised its gnarled hands to the sky.
“Welcome, all,” the Great Worm declared,” today is a great day for Blood Bowl!”
The silent crowd erupted in raucous applause. Food and beer flew into the air from the excited audience.
“As I draw each stone, I will announce the team name. If the team owner could then join me on the stage.”
In the crowd, a scuffle had begun between three goblins and a minotaur. Cheers started once more as the minotaur raised two halves of a goblin in the sky.
“Now…if we can begin?”

Edgar Longbritches was still groggy from his nap. Or perhaps it was the flagon of ale upon awakening. Either way, the waiting area for the team owners was far from the prestigious name implied. Ankle deep in churned up mud, more than forty owners mingled with veiled veneer of civility. Edgar despised them all, but then he wasn’t in the sports business. Edgar Longbritches was in the entertainment business. He wasn’t one for the grinding plays of the North West Miners or the surgical passing plays of the Wood Elves. Edgar wanted fancy plays. Edgar wanted the sort of games that made fans talk for weeks afterward. Edgar wanted butts in seats, tickets bought, and money in his pocket. He could hear the Great Worm talking on the other side of the velvet divider. Stuck behind the hulking thing that coaches the Sewerside City Punks, Edgar had to rely only on his ears to figure out what was happening. The draw began and owners began shuffling about as they moved onto the stage. Edgar began to feel a little nervous. The last thing he wanted was a draw against a boring team. Got to think of that bottom line.

Hamwick sat back on his muddy verge after grabbing a fourth round of sausage and beer. He was feeling fuzzy now but the excitement had kept building. The stage had become busy with a variety of owners, from Dwarfs to mutated Rats to a hooded skeletal figure. Finally, the Great Worm declared, “Blue Angry Beavers, Bertha Division!”
Hamwick jumped and cheered. ‘King’ Edgar swaggered across the stage, passing by svelte Elves, a hulking Orc, and a large Norseman. Hamwick tried to calm himself while he worked out what teams the Blue Angry Beavers would be playing this year. Through his beer tinged eyes he worked out that they’d play against Underworld, Dark and Wood Elves, some Orcs, some Norse men, and Imperial men. The large mutated man was probably a Chaos coach from the dark north, the dead looking thing he couldn’t tell, and the scaly Lizard creature was self-explanatory.
Hamwick smiled. He would enjoy this season. He’d drained his beer when the Great Worm proclaimed that the Double ‘Ard Misfits would be joining the Bertha Division.
“Ooh, another mutant thingy,” Hamwick thought aloud. He quickly looked around, hoping he hadn’t offended anyone in the varied crowd. The last thing he needed was a fight. Hamwick just wanted to eat, drink, and see the team.

Edgar beamed onstage. Elves were a big draw. He would guarantee a full house from the Lizardmen game. Everyone wants to see those freaks. The Norse wouldn’t be good for the health of the players, but they’re inexpensive to replace. He was in thought as the Ogre coach strolled passed him.
“Ah, Ogres,” Edgar thought, “I’m sure I could offer some kind of Stunty Special in that game.”
All in all, this was looking very profitable for ‘King’ Edgar, as long as he didn’t have to pay for a new tree. Those cost a lot and took a while to train. All that remained now was visit the fans, charge for autographs, and then head to wherever the next game would be. Edgar thanked the Great Worm and headed off stage to head to his carriage. He could already imagine the new one he’d buy from the Elf proceeds.

The Sewerside City Punks fans looked distraught as Hamwick passed them, the thoughts of two Dwarf games too much for them to cope. In the battles of the mountains, they could outnumber the Dwarfs, but eleven on eleven wasn’t a Skaven fair fight. The rest of the fans seemed elated; the frivolity and drinking guaranteed a party atmosphere, even in the early afternoon. Hamwick skipped down the path towards the congregation of team owners. Although crowded, he skipped through the mass of people to get to the only owner he wanted to meet; Edgar Longbritches of the Blue Angry Beavers.
Hamwick had always idolised the Blue Angry Beavers and their leader ‘King’ Edgar. He’d spend his days drawing pictures of star catchers ‘Cat’ Clothwick and ‘Flash’ Gumpfast. He crafted his own Beavers’ shirt and scrawled a large number seven on the back, to replicate the shirt of Alan ‘7’ Bacon. Now was the day Hamwick Pandyweed was going to meet the owner of the club he’d idolised all his life. Hamwick’s palms were sweating as he rounded a large Ogre. There he saw the Halfling himself. ‘King’ Edgar Longbritches in all his glory.
The purple cloak wrapped around his shoulders flowed majestically behind him. Hamwick could feel his heart pumping harder as the line got shorter.
Four more people.
What was he going to say?
Three more.

He almost made eye contact
Two.
Next.
Hamwick realised he had been holding his breath for a while. Dizzily stepping forward, he held out a clammy hand to Edgar. “MrKingSirIamsohappytomeetyouthisisamassivehonourohmyihavebeenahugehugefansinceiwaslittleand…” blurted Hamwick, a befuddling barrage of words bombarding Edgar in scant seconds.
Edgar placed a hand on Hamwick’s shoulder and chuckled. “My good boy, take a breath,” he said, “Now, from the beginning.”
Hamwick once more felt dizzy but did as his hero said. After a calming breath, he spoke again.
“Mr King, it is an honour to meet you. I have been a massive fan of the team since the first time I ever saw the Angry Beavers play in Wissenton.”

Edgar smiled. This wasn’t the first time he had heard a fan say this, but it never got old. “Thank you, lad,” Edgar said, “We wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for the fans.”
And your money.
Edgar pulled out a sheet of parchment. “Now, what name should I sign this too?”
“Erm, Hamwick,” he stammered, “Hamwick Pandyweed….but Sir…”
Edgar stopped writing, leaving the sheet with just “My dear Hamw” scrawled on it. “Was there something else?” he inquired.
“Sir…I…I…I want to try out for the team!”
Hamwick couldn't catch the words as they left his mouth. He stood shocked at the enthusiastic gusto they fired out with.

‘King’ Edgar smiled. He usually had to go and find players, here’s a lad wanting to play. Gives me more time for a snooze, I guess. He finished signing the parchment. Handing it to the young Halfling, Edgar beamed.
“Tell you what lad; meet me at the locker room after the first match. Human team, not too far from here, should be less than a day’s travel,” he said, “We will see what you can do then.”
With that and a handshake, Edgar turned and headed to his carriage. If the lad has talent I get a free player, even if he doesn’t he could always de-rot the trees. Either way, fans work for less pay.

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Waterbowl Season Draw

Going into the first league in my Year of the ‘Fling (second consecutive Stunty season) I was really worrying about playing Dwarfs of either ilk. Managing to avoid them all was cause for celebration. Unfortunately I did miss out on playing my favourite rival Chilli, so we will have to meet up for a Veteran’s game or in the playoffs (Championship or Chumpionship.)

The fixtures for ‘King’ Edgar’s Blue Angry Beavers go as follows:

Sal Tlay Ka Siti Pro Fets                                 -              Humans

Buckin’ Boar Boyz                                            -              Orcs

Disciples of the Blackwood                         -              Chaos

Santa Claws-ettes                                           -              Norse

Every Witch Way But Lose                           -              Dark Elves

Dinos Are Forever                                            -              Lizardmen

Dirty Wardancing                                           -              Wood Elves

Da’Funky Funkers                                            -              Underworld

The Good, The Bad, and the Titchy          -              Ogres

Double ‘Ard Misfits                                        -              Chaos Renegades

Eat, Sleep, Grave, Repeat                             -              Necromantic

Humans followed by Orcs gives me a nice “homely” start to the season. Not a lot of skills to keep track of in comparison to some of the more esoteric teams. 

The run of Orcs-Chaos-Norse could be painful for my wee ‘flings, so I’ll have to make sure I have money to replace any Dead or Injured players. I’m quite thankful that I get one of the mutant teams (Chaos) before they get the mass mutations.

Dark Elves are a very good team and run by a great coach too.

Lizardmen are a team that I haven’t faced too often. By Round 6, the Saurus should all have the Block skill, and the new Chameleon Skinks will bring an unknown quandary to the pitch.

I always enjoy my games against Wood Elves, Win or Lose. Halflings vs Wood Elves can turn into a shoot-out, a blood bath, or a combination. ALWAYS FOUL THE WARDANCERS!

Round 8 is against Kåre, one of the top coaches in Europe, if not the World. So I’ll write that one off and aim for a 10 win season!

Ogres are next which, depending on the games before, will mean either 6 hulking monsters blitzing up and down the pitch, or a load of Loner snotlings and a bunch of hulking dunces. Doug is an amazing coach, and could probably win with 11 Snotlings.

The penultimate match will be a challenging game against Chaos Renegades. By this point in the season the team should have a great smattering of skills and upgrades. An early Renegades team is massively different prospect to one with a few skills.

Rounding off the regular season will be a match against Necromantic, one of the top teams in Blood Bowl. Werewolves are a Halflings worst nightmare.

If I finish the season with an even non-loss to loss ratio, it’ll be a good season. I am hoping my last couple of seasons with Nurgle and Ogres will have sharpened my defensive positioning, but then I am prone to throwing a Halfling and crossing everything for a good scatter!

Visit Element Games here (Use the code DAN2300 at Checkout for double points)

For more Blood Bowl action:

Listen to the Two Drunk Flings podcast here

Listen to the Anything But A One podcast here

Listen to the Double Skulls podcast here