This post is part of the series Slaan Seers Stories
Other posts in this series:
Coach Josiah Frost, (or JoFro to friends,) looked over the recumbent dead form of the Overseer Mk III, which had been resting in his office since the White Owlz had killed him in his prime; two weeks before. The corpse had started to decay from its original blue colour and was giving off a putrid odour. The stench did not stop JoFro from taking a sip on his favoured brandy and lighting a match to a fine cigar, seemingly enjoying the mix of the flavours.
His eyes then drifted to the less decayed remains of the Eye of Thundera, Ho, who had died the previous week at the hands of a Los Pumas gang foul whilst desperately trying to get over the touchline with seconds to spare. That skink had always been the fastest on the team. (The ‘Ho,’ part of the name had hitherto been very important to JoFro and he would berate anyone who didn’t use it. He had even alluded to it being seriously connected to his ‘plan’ for the Seers. The ‘Ho’ in that one moment no longer seemed quite as relevant, though. That skink had always been JoFro’s personal favourite. He wasn’t the ‘star’ of the squad, but he was fast and technically, with a single saurus shunt, could cover half of the pitch in mere seconds. – Not that he ever did, but he tried; with this latest effort costing him his life. He had a great name, which JoFro had personally gifted him with and which he had worn as a badge of pride.)
“Ho!” JoFro called out the word, seemingly in a salute and farewell. He smiled briefly at a picture of something called ‘The Thundercats,’ on the wall, which JoFro knew was connected with the name and that word. This quickly gave way to him shaking his head, in clear frustration.
“This was not part of the plan,” he muttered to himself. There was no one else to talk to. He normally spoke through a cabalvision crystal ball to his team and had never appeared to them in person. He crushed the cigar in his hand, in a pique of anger, with the unfortunate side effect of ash landing onto his trousers; singeing them and threatening to set them on fire. He hurriedly poured on the brandy which did not have the desired effect and he was left pathetically swatting at his trousers with his hands until the burning stopped. In so doing he had risen to his feet and was effectively ‘dancing’ around the room. He looked down at the scorch marks and seemed to be pondering.
“Skaven next…” He said, referencing the Seers upcoming match versus Rodentia Ad Nauseum.
“Burn them all?” He then shrugged as if in answer to the question he had just posed to himself. “No. That won’t work.”
“It’s all your fault!” He shouted this last sentence with rage at the corpse of the Overseer Mk III, kicking it a couple of times with pent up frustration before sitting back down behind his desk and pulling out another cigar. He also poured a hefty brandy, before necking it down his throat in two big gulps.
JoFro sat back and watched the latest rerun of the ‘’Amazing’ Skuttle Butts’ match in an effort to calm himself. He was a big fan. In doing this, though, his thoughts then moved, again, to the upcoming match which even if the Seers won may not actually be enough to ensure they avoided relegation.
JoFro clicked on his connection to the Cabalvision crystal ball, seemingly finding someone to talk to at the other end; although their form and face was obfuscated by shadow.
JoFro spoke to the form; “Find me another Overseer. It doesn’t really matter if he arrives in time for the next match, but it would be nice if he did. I don’t want the same rubbish as before. Still no astrogranite, dead Overseers and now Eye of Thundera, Ho! – It is making the plan very difficult to fulfil!”
There was a brief chirrup and cheeping noise from the end of the connection. JoFro seemed to understand this, however, and responded accordingly.
“I know whether we lose or get relegated is not relevant to ‘the plan’ but it is relevant to me, right now! We have to at least do our best to win. People will expect it. So do as I have instructed. And yes ‘the plan’ must continue. Right now the only part of the plan intact is ‘Eye of the Tiger!’ In terms of fulfilling ‘the plan’ we are in a worse position than we were when we were in the Challenge League, which ironically is where we may well end up again! That is probably not a bad thing. Remember, though, if ‘Eye of the Tiger’ falls, the plan will become even harder to realise. I don’t care about the rest of the team.”
There was yet a further chirrup and cheep.
“Yes, even the Kroxigor! Kroxlantha or whatever it is called! Play like we don’t care, but at least try and win! If the Kroxigor has to die, for instance, who actually cares? Play like we have nothing to lose. We don’t.” He looked over, again, at the dead skinks. “We have already lost more important things, to me, than this game!”
JoFro sat back. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed his own words.
(Disclaimer: The ‘JoFro character’ presented in this story does not necessarily bear any resemblance to the actual coach Josiah Frost whom you may encounter in Discord chats and other MML formats. He is presented in the manner, above, purely for storyline and entertainment purposes.)
Continue reading this series:
The Fate of Plans