Iron, Blood, Sweat, Chaos, and Beards: Part II

This post is part of the series Hashut's Hellhammers

Other posts in this series:

  1. Iron, Blood, Sweat, Chaos, and Beards
  2. Iron, Blood, Sweat, Chaos, and Beards: Part II (Current)
  3. Hashut’s Hellhammers Release High Destiny Promotional Video
  4. Iron, Blood, Sweat, Chaos, and Beards: Part III

Elric stared at the surly dwarf inspecting he and his companion, mind addled by pain, drug withdrawal, and a thousand years of ennui.  He had not been in worse situations, per se, but his circumstances did not surprise him.  The dwarf was an imposing physical specimen; a little over half Elric’s height – well, before his leg was mangled leaving him unable to stand – and measuring approximately the same in breadth and depth.  A mean little cube of hard, angry, greasy meat cloaked in a braided black beard the tickled his toes.  Though Elric was not surprised by his circumstances, per se, they did make it harder for him to see the humor in this lout’s appearance.

As the crowd swarmed the pitch following the Princes of Arioch loss to Dream Wild in the MML Semifinals, Coach Sacerdotalist was trampled in the surge of flesh and left insensible.  When the dust cleared and the fans had finally trickled out of the stadium, he opened his eyes to find himself staring into the face of his former star blitzer, Elric.  Sacerdotalist remembered the moment the apothecaries had gleefully announced that there was nothing they could do and pronounced him dead on the field.  It was the moment he began to suspect that the end was coming.  Elric’s body had been dragged over to the sidelines and dumped unceremoniously next to the Princes’ bench; but now, one red eye was flickering open and the coach could faintly hear gurgling breathing.

“Elric.  Are you alive?”

“Urghhhh.  Did we…win?  Does the Arioch Dynasty continue?”

Before Sacerdotalist could reply, he felt a sharp new pain in his ribs, layered on top of all the sharp new pains everywhere else.

“Hey!  This one’s alive!  This one too, maybe,” screeched the hobgoblin who had kicked him.

And now here he was, in the bowels of a massive blackened ziggurat hundreds of miles away, surrounded by malicious evil stunties.  Very much out of his comfort zone.

“You two are to help me blood bowl, or I will brand your flesh before using your carcass to stoke the furnace at my forge,” Marduk rumbled in a gravelly voice.  “Where do I start?”

A deeply instinct for self-preservation superseding his abject terror, Sacerdotalist piped up.  Maybe he could coach his was out of this predicament!

“Well, do you have a team?”

“The Daemonsmith told me to take two Bull Centaurs and a handful of my brothers.  Is eight the right number?”

“You really should have at least eleven.”

Marduk, holding Sacerdotalist upright with a first the size of a cannonball, stood in front of the two score hobgoblin slaves assembled in front of them.  He had instructed the slavemaster to collect the meanest, cruelest, strongest, and most cunning slaves awaiting assignment.

“Throw a dozen in the furnaces.  NOW!”  Marduk roared to the slavemasters.  Then, to Sacerdotalist with a shocking jovial wink, “Motivation.”

With the screams of hobgoblin just fading over the roar of flaring fires, he bellowed “I have a task that will involve hurting others in addition to being hurt.  Do I have any volunteers?”

A tall, scarred hobgoblin stepped forward, only to have his face caved in by Marduk’s free hand.

“You do not have the power to VOLUNTEER!  I will take this one, this one, and…that one.” He said, jabbing a stubby finger at a few nasty-looking specimens.  “Slavemaster, do not dispose of the rest.  We will need more.”

Marduk stumped away like a rolling boulder, hauling Sacerdotalist behind him.

“Now, slavecoach, tell me how to win at blood bowl.  Our first game is tonight against the Rat Race Rushers”

“Tonight?! That’s not nearly enough time.  There are plays, formations, skills and techniques which you’ve never heard of.”

“TELL ME HOW TO WIN AT BLOODBOWL!”

“Well, they’re rats, right?  You could start by killing them.  Oh, and don’t forget that you have to pick up the ball and take it to the other end of the field.  Next week we can try a more sophisticated game plan.”

“Good.  We will do that.”

 

Hashut’s Hellhammers play the Rat Race Rushers tonight, April 11th, at 8:30 pm EDT.

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2 comments

  1. Elven Sellouts… This is why Helves are inferior! Welves would rather die than let a Chorf win a match!! 😂

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