Waterbowl - Autumn League Game 3

Playing The Goat

  

“So you see, Edgar can’t remember names, so gives us old player names. “Cobo ‘Cool’ was resting in a chair. Hamwick was sat on the rug, listening to the older player.
“Which is why the new guy over there is the new Ermin now.”
“Well, why do I get called Junior?” asked Hamwick.
 “Ah,” said Cobo, “How did your trial go? ‘Junior’ is usually what they give to someone that needs to improve. Sorry, kid.” Hamwick grunted. He’d show them all that he was born to be a star. A loud noise outside of the tavern door interrupted his thoughts. With a thud the doors swung open. In the door stood the world famous Halfling Chef, Heston ‘Blue Man’ Tal. The Halflings in the tavern gasped. The humans in there carried on with their ales.

“My fellow Halflings how are we today?” the portly chef exclaimed, “Excited for the upcoming game, yes?” Hamwick climbed up from the floor. He loved Chef Tal and had always dreamed of visiting his delicatessen in Altdorf.
“Chef Tal! Welcome,” smiled Hamwick,” What brings you here?” A small crowd of Halflings had gathered around the famous chef. He revelled in the attention.
“Your team owner, and my good friend, ‘King’ Longbritches called for me. He said we are up against the Disciples of the Blackwood in the next game, no?”

The training ground was filled with the aroma of stewed goat, baked pies and bubbling soups. The Chef and his team were at the Blue Angry Beavers beck and call, and the players were making the most of it. ‘King’ Edgar was happy to see his old friend around, as well as his team enjoying the coaching session. News had spread that the Chaos team were almost as beaten as his own. The exquisite food would be the boost the team needed.
“Mr ‘britches!” smiled Chef Tal, “I am so glad to see you. Please, try the stew.” The tubby chef embraced his old friend.
“It is always great to see you,” said Edgar, “I will pass on the stew for now. I have some work to do.” He smiled and walked over to the training pitch. Coach Lemonleaf ran over to him. On the pitch the players were training. ‘Brick’ Cinderhill, Jaspy and Ermin were practicing a three ‘fling takedown on ‘The Sprout’. The third Clothwick and ‘Flash’ Gumpfast were racing one another. A few of the other Halflings were stood around talking.
“What are those guys doing?” asked Edgar.
“Those guys? They’re picking which one of them gets thrown by Loren first,” said the Coach, “I reckon we could use it when we have the ball.” Edgar gulped. The medical bills were sky high last game. Coach Lemonleaf saw the look on Edgar’s face.
“Don’t worry about it. We have a net.” He gestured to the opposite side of the field. An old fishing net stretched between two poles. Edgar hoped they had cleaned it first.

“Well where are they?” Edgar watched the twenty two thousand fans becoming more restless. The game was due to start at midday, yet still there was no sign of the Chaos team. Coach Lemonleaf shook his head. There were only so many drills he could put the team through before they would get up to mischief. He’d already disrupted plans to disappear to the local tavern.

An hour had past with the crowd deep into its third brawl. Hamwick lazily threw a ball to ‘Flash’ Gumpfast.
“Well this is hardly the life of glitz and glamour,” said Hamwick, “how long will we have to w…..” Hamwick’s words were drowned out by thunderous jeering of the crowd. The Disciples of the Blackwood had arrived. Puzzled, Hamwick looked over the team, he was sure they had a minotaur in their last game.

“About time!” ‘King’ Edgar huffed. C’zaar, the two headed coach of the Disciples of the Blackwood, raised a warty hand and waved at the Halfling. Edgar waved back.
“Ugly creature,” he muttered.

The Chaos team ran onto the pitch under a hail of food and debris. Warily they lined up to kick the ball. The Angry Beavers waited, the extra hour in the midday sun raising the frustrations of the Halflings.
“Hurry up with it!!” bellowed ‘Brick’ Cinderhill. One of the Beastmen snorted at him as it ran over and took its place to kick the ball. Detritus was still being lobbed at the Disciples when the ball was kicked. Un-Gor crumpled to the floor, hit by a chair. Hamwick looked to the crowd, an Ogre awkwardly danced, celebrating his direct hit.

The ball tumbled onto the pitch. Nimbly the Halflings swarmed the ball, forming up in perfect unison. Perhaps the extra hour training had done them some good, thought ‘King’ Edgar. The Beastmen bucked and brayed as they charged forward. Horns clashed against Halfling pan armour as they pushed forward. Hooves kicked up grass in the bestial display of dominance.

‘Cap’n’ Longweed ran forward, the ball tucked under his flabby arms. ‘The Sprout’ and Loren Sapp fought back the seemingly unending horde of Beastmen.  Loren lurched forward. His roots slipped on the litter from the crowd. The enormous Treeman creaked and collapsed in a thump of mud and leaves. Hamwick was thankful he got out of the way. One of the Beastmen lay squished underneath the lumbering Treeman. Longweed moved to hide behind his Halfling blockers. With barely a moment to react he was crunched to the floor. Herd-Gor, Blackwoods’ Star Player, charged through the ball carrying Halfling, knocking both ball and player to the ground.

Both sets of players descended onto the ball in a mound of fur, mutations, pots and pans. Still the crowd launched things onto the pitch. Halflings slipped and fell, with only ‘The Sprout’ staying upright in the carnage. The Treeman swung a stiff branch at Spike, the Blackwoods’ number nine. The Chaos Warrior flew through the air, landing in a heap. The crowd cheered at the carnage causing a brief respite from the hurled rocks and rubbish. Ermin and Non-Gor ran at each other. The massive Halfling smashed against the caprine Disciples player. Entangled they fell to the floor, unmoving.

Tomb-Gor emerged from the ruckus clutching the ball between three of its four hands. With an enormous bray the Beastman charged downfield.
“Shakebelly! Get him closed down!” yelled Coach Lemonleaf. The Halfling ran towards the ball carrying half-goat, followed by two more Halflings. A large Chaos Warrior stood between the Halflings and their target. ‘Priest’ Muggins ducked under the transmuted body of the Chaos Warrior. He jumped forward at the ball carrier. Arms stretched out he grasped at the Beastman. Gnarled fur filled Muggins’ hands, yet Tomb-Gor was no longer in reach. The Beastman slipped out and ran downfield. The clock ticked down. Seconds were remaining. Mere inches from the touchline Tomb-Gor slipped. Cloven hooves skidded in a pool of ale, sending the Beastman to the dirt. The crowd jeered as the horn sounded for the end of the half.

Exhausted Halflings filled every chair in the changing room. Bodies ached and lungs burned as the weary players enjoyed the break from the on field barbarity.  Jaspy, Coach Lemonleaf and ‘King’ Edgar stood in the corner talking. Clothwick sat alone in the corner with a large bottle of Heady Brew. Chef Tal’s apprentices wheeled in a selection of cooked meats and pies. Alan ‘7’ Bacon and ‘Big Bad’ Fido made a beeline for the meats, ready for the usual halftime eating competition. Hamwick stood up; wincing as his inflamed feet touched the hard stone ground. He walked gingerly to the Coach and Owner.
“What is the plan for the second half, boss?” he asked. Edgar looked at Hamwick for a second before he replied.
“Ah, Junior. Your personalised plan is to stay in the backfield and don’t let anyone go past you. You up for that?” Hamwick nodded, a big smile forming across his face.
“A personalised plan, just for me? I’ll show them my real worth!” he said to himself as he headed over to the food cart.

Clothwick was asleep, clutching an empty bottle and snoring loudly across two seats.
“What was in that bottle?” asked Coach Lemonleaf to no one in particular. He grabbed a cup of water and threw it over the slumbering Stunty.
“Eh? What’s happening?” said the drowsy Clothwick, rubbing his eyes.
“You’re drunk is what’s happening!” shouted Coach Lemonleaf, “The rest of the team are on the pitch already!”
“Go on the pitch? You got it!” Clothwick stumbled to his feet, slid on a discarded pie crust, and was out of the door before the Coach could react.

Hamwick warmed up on the pitch with the rest of the team. The halftime break had calmed the crowd a little, and thankfully the ground staff had cleared most of the litter from the pitch. He had just finished his eighth star jump when Hamwick noticed Clothwick careening onto the pitch pursued by the red faced Coach Lemonleaf. The Halfling team chortled at the sight of the drunken catcher scampering onto the pitch and sitting on the roots of ‘The Sprout’.
“Oi, you aren’t in the Moot now!” shouted Shakebelly, awakening the nodding Clothwick.

‘King’ Edgar patted down his large cushion and took his seat. He poured himself a large goblet of Miss Fifi’s Fortified Wine, took a great gulp, wiped his mouth, and waved to the Blue Angry Beavers fans. The weather was fine, the crowd in song, now, and the teams were ready to play. Shakebelly ran up to the ball and kicked it clean into the air. Edgar watched aghast as Clothwick sprinted headfirst towards the largest Beastman on the Disciples team. He watched as the Catcher dodged past two dumfounded Blackwoods players and ran at the large mutated half-goat.
“What is he doing?” yelled Edgar. Time seemed to slow as the Halfling jumped in the air. Then proceeded as normal as Clothwick fell into the mud and began snoring again.
“Just what is in that drink?” asked Edgar to an astonished Coach Lemonleaf.

The Chaotic players rushed forwards with the ball, hitting a great blockade of branches and leaves, as well as the smaller barrier of Halflings. Wolf-Gor was smashed aside by the fists of Loren Sapp, Halflings and Beastmen alike were thrown two and fro. The stretcher men became the busiest people in the stadium, taking knocked out players to their respective dugouts. Shakebelly was wounded by the horns of What-Gor. Thankfully he was partway through his patented Shakebelly Belly Shake dance, so was only grazed by the goat.

The Disciples of the Blackwoods numbers were dwindling as they sped downfield. Hamwick looked up and remembered his personalised plan – Don’t let them get past. The backfield trio of Halflings pushed with all their might, the three Halflings pushing the ball carrying Tomb-Gor towards the side-lines. The mutants three spare arms lashed out at the Halflings until more players joined the fray. In the melee Hammer the Warrior, and Tomb-Gor were pushed into the clutches of the crowd. The ball lay on the pitch untouched as the remaining players watched. Forty fans flocked onto the players before security dragged their mangled bodies away. A dwarf cheered as he held aloft three teeth, one of them his.

Hamwick looked up the pitch. The clock was ticking, but there was still time for the winning score. He grabbed the ball and ran up the pitch. Fido was stood next to Loren, if he could get the ball to the Halfling, they still had a chance. Two of the Blue Angry Beavers pushed aside Non-Gor. Hamwick carried on his run. The last obstacle stood ahead of them; Burnheart. The Chaos Warrior stood defiantly in front of Hamwick. Yet like a bolt of blue lightning, Jaspy crunched into the Warrior. Burnheart staggered away by the impact. Hamwick pumped his legs, veins burning as he took the last few steps towards Fido. He thrust the ball into the awaiting Halflings fingers.

With a creak of old limbs Loren grabbed up the baddest Halfling on the team. Into the sky the Halfling flew. The clock ticked. Seconds turned to minutes as the Fido flew through the air. Whereas he flew like a bird, he landed like a brick, smashing into the floor with all the grace of the same. Edgar threw his drink to the floor. A draw. Before the game he would have taken a draw, but now in the cold light of day, the ‘King’ was disappointed. The sixty thousand gold coins the team received would go some way to cheer him up though. 

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A solid game, with a win just out of reach. In my first five turns, four ended with a failed Dodge roll. The Halflings, after a tough first half, became KO Monsters in the second. The Chaos team ended the game with 4 or 5 players remaining on the pitch! The lack of a Minotaur and Block skilled players made this game less difficult than it should have been. In the end it came down to a 4+ landing roll. 

Next game is against Norse, always a tough game for the Halflings

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

For more Blood Bowl action:

Listen to the FUMBBL podcast here

Listen to the Two Drunk Flings podcast here

Listen to the Anything But A One podcast here

Listen to the Double Skulls podcast here