The Dignity of the High Elves
by Alan Mittag
Dignity has been excited to meet with Thee Grandiose Gladiators ever since they noticed that the only two High Elf teams in the MML Pro were in the same division this year, and now the time has finally arrived. Coach Sestonn calls it The Super Epic, Once Every Three Years, Legendary High Elf Bowl.
I have finally managed to get a one-on-one interview with Dignity’s thrower, Royalty. In the past, every time I had an interview scheduled Royalty would dodge it at the last second. So this time, I had to be sneaky.
After learning Royalty’s morning routine, I awaited him in the public restroom. Right on time, Dignity’s star passer joined me.
“Good Morning, Royalty.” I said.
He eyed me up and down. “I prefer that stall. You’re in my way.”
I moved aside and he went in. I heard the sliding bar lock into place. “Royalty, are you excited to be meeting with the….”
“Are we really going to do this now, Alan?”
“Yes,” I said, standing my ground. “You didn’t leave me any choice.”
The elf let out a long sigh. “You are so annoying.”
“Are you excited to be meeting Thee Grandiose Gladiators this week?”
After careful consideration, I will only record the sound of Royalty’s voice coming from the stall. “Of course. This is my chance to prove that I am the best passer in the MML.”
“What about any of the wood elf throwers that are having a fantastic year?”
“The who?” There was a pause, and maybe a little grunting. “You can’t be The Best when you smell like they do. You just can’t. Being the best means more than just being the #1 at something. It also means being the best that you can be, as well as being someone that the people love and respect, someone they idolize. If the children watching your game aren’t roleplaying being you, then you aren’t the best. And let’s face it, the children who attend dirty Elf… I mean wood Elf games are far too busy holding their own noses closed to pretend they are anyone else other than their unfortunate selves at what is likely a boring game.”
I tried to break in with my second question….
“…I have done everything I could to help with that smell. Coach Sestonn and I have sent multiple gift baskets with some of my preferred soaps and shampoos to both the Seathiel Treehawks and Stop Rolling Ones, but every time the basket has been returned to us.”
“….They must like their smell. I don’t see how anyone can, but they must. I mean, those were some expensive shampoos. On the plus side, now Dignity’s linemen smell even better, and that should help hold onto some of the fans we lost after the Snow Tragedy; but, come on! Free expensive soaps and shampoos! They could have actually smelled good! And been clean! I just don’t understand what our wood Elf cousins are thinking.”
I tried again, “Do you think….”
“They roll around in the dirt all day like baby piglets, spread sap in their hair to hold it in place, and then they dare to get upset when we call them stinky and dirty? Try some deodorant! I mean, if any of my servants were to smell like them, or dress like them, or not brush their teeth like them, I would be hosting executions every day. This is Blood Bowl! And they are elves! They have a duty to represent our race with more than just grace. Distinguished grace, that’s the way to go. That’s what being an elf is really about. And that’s what we need here in the MML. More distinguished grace. More High Elves. Or even Dark Elves. That would be alright. They aren’t the best passers, they like torture and slavery, but they do manage to keep themselves pretty clean. Maybe its the blood baths they take all the time. I think I will send a message to the Blitzkriegers and see if any of them want to help with cleaning up the MML. We can send baskets of soap and shampoo to all of the Wood Elf teams. Maybe with the Blitzkriegers’ help we can convince all of these dirty elves to show some pride. Stand up and represent their race. Then we can work on beautifying some of those other teams, like the humans.”
He stepped out of the stall, washed his hands, and straightened his uniform, “Something has to be done before we lose all of our fans to some other league. I don’t think any of us want that.”
“How do you think the match….”
“I’m glad we did this, Alan. Letting you interview me wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He slapped me lightly on the back. “You are doing a great job, Archivist.”
Then he was gone, leaving me in the restroom with the smell he left behind.