The Red Eye Mountain Tales (pt.7)


Da Stompin’ Ground, South of Red Eye Mountain.

The dust had settled on the stands of the Orc stadium. The blood on the pitch was dry, and the remains of all their victims across the season had long been removed. Though there was still the smell of sweaty Orc brutes in the air the season was finished. Chalk another one up, put it in the books, done. The Red Eye Mountain ladz had just completed their 2nd season in the MML challenge league. Much like their first season, this was still a learning curve for Stompa and this bunch of Grimgor Ironhides’ ‘hand me downs’. But now Stompa could see his players development on the field. It was becoming clear to him that things were starting to look up. Each of his players were learning new skills along the way to help improve their game. Stompa had a vision from the beginning. To one day rule the MML and claim the most prestigious award within its ranks, Pro Champion. That may be just a pipe dream for the time being but Stompa didn’t let that slow him down at all. He knew what needed to be done. He knew how tall of an order it was. But he was also very patient. He would buy his time until the moment was right.

During the end of season break, Stompa decided he would go on a tour of the old world. Scout a few teams and players (With thoughts of his last meeting with Grimgor Ironhide still fresh in his memory). He’d been bashing away at this coaching for a while now and felt a little break was needed. Not wanting to let the team rest and get lazy he decided to leave his Ladz in the capable hands of his assistant Orc coach Bill BelichOrc. Bill was the best assistant an Orc coach could ask for. Multiple dungeon bowls to his name. He was a very cunning coach. He knew how to get the best out of players, more so than most. He’s known for making, what look to others as useless into greats. He’s made his fair share of enemies along the way thanks some of his ‘underhanded’ tactics. One of these scandals was known as ‘Spygate’ where Coach Bill sent some of his pesky Gobbo’s to record the play-call signals of their opposition. Though when one of the coaches of teams involved in this scandal took it to the NAF they became a laughing stock of the BB community. Pleading to governing bodies that his team had been ‘cheated’ out of a victory brought a lot of shame on the said coach. He was playing Blood Bowl after all. Did he expect a ‘fair’ game?

This is exactly the kind of assistant coach Stompa needed when they first started out. And he’s proven his worth ever since. Stompa knew his team would be in the safest possible hands.

Stompa intended to visit surrounding Blood Bowl stadiums. Not wanting to get himself into any danger on his journey he decided to stay within a reasonable distance of the Ladz training camp. Stompa travelled light. Only a couple of Orc boyz travelled with him, they were brought along to do all the labouring more than anything. Stompa didn’t care much for company, nor heavy lifting. Not when he had other gits to do it for him.

Stompa’s journey took him West of Red Eye Mountain. Wanting to avoid confrontation on this particular journey (knowing he couldn’t rely on these 2 boyz for much protection), he travelled around the outskirts of the Kislev towns known as Vitebo, which took him through the Shirokij forest. This was a dark and eery place. Most sane people would lose their minds spending too much time in here. With every snap of a twig under his orcish boot or gust of wind, Stompa felt uneasy. Not easily spooked normally, but Stompa didn’t feel safe here. He knew he would need to get out of this forest before night fell. And so they headed North towards the town of Svantinevo. Once clear of the of the dark trees Stompa decided they should find shelter. They found and abandoned outbuilding just as they reached the farm lands of the town. This would do for now.

The following morning Stompa and his boyz rose early. Not wanting to attract any unwanted attention he felt it would be wise to set off on his travels once more. Just as they stepped outside they noticed a lot of moving vehicles heading into town. Convoys of large trucks with caged bears on the back, as well as numerous cargo carrying transports. Stompa and his boyz jumped into the back of the last transport. Wanting to investigate, they hid inside to avoid being spotted. As they reached the town centre they made their escape. Carefuly avoiding any unwanted attention. This convoy was heading into a stadium. A Blood Bowl stadium. Who were these people and what business did they have inside a Blood Bowl stadium. Stompa noticed something stuck to his boot. It was a flyer. “Come see The Rabbit Tribe as we take on the nasty Greenskins” it read. These guys were Blood Bowl players. Unlike anything Stompa had seen before. Stompa was intrigued and simply had to see this.

He made his way into the stadium and sat with all the Greenskins in the ‘away’ section of the arena. The match begun. These guys were very gutsey. Leaping all over the place without hesitation. They were a circus act alright. The poor Orcs couldn’t get much of hand on them. Apart from one. There was one Orc who stood out amongst the rest. Half time approached and this particular Orc had already sent 3 of the opponents team to the casualty box, as well as scoring a touch down. Stompa was impressed. He was liking what he saw so far. After the game Stompa made his way to the field.

He was met by the Orc teams security guard, who was tossed aside with ease by Stompa. He needed to meet this player. Stompa marched towards the Orc blitzer. His team mates didn’t hesitate to move out of Stompa’s path. But his intended target did not. He was without fear it appeared. Stompa stood toe to toe with him. The blitzer looked straight back at him with his chin held high. “Wot” said the blitzer. This raised a smile from Stompa. He knew he was onto something here. “You hit dem ‘ard, and you move pretty quick. I like dat” said Stompa. “Wots yer name? Asked the blitzer. “I’m coach Stompa of da Red Eye Mountain Ladz, and we play in da Mead an’ Mayhem league”. This raised an eyebrow on the Blood Bowl player in front of him. He had heard of this league. It was where all the best Blood Bowl players were, and where everyone wanted to be. “You fink ya got wot it takes to be in da MML?, Stompa asked the Orc. “I’m da best in da world at wot i do”. Said a very cocky and confident Orc. Stompa liked the sound of this guy. He had just seen him walk the walk on the field, but he could also talk the talk. Stompa made him an offer. To come back with him, and train with the Ladz. And maybe, after he’d proved himself, play in the league.

The blitzer accepted his invitation. Just as they were leaving the stadium an old Orc Shaman grabbed Stompa by the arm. “You be careful with him, he’s marked” warned the Shaman. Stompa, paused in confusion at the words of the Shaman, said nothing, and then walked away with a preplexed look on his face, eyes locked with the Shamans as he made his way out of the arena. The Shaman didn’t take his eyes off Stompa as he left. Stompa’s new player told him to ignore the old git, said he was a crazy old fool who knew nothing. Stompa turned back to the Blitzer,

“Wot am i supposed to call ya?, you got a name? he said.

“They call me Chris, Chris Jerichorc”.


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