Josiah Frost, coach of the Slaan Seers, sat back in his office chair with a glass of brandy in one hand and plumes of smoke rising from the lit cigar he held in the other. He sighed deeply having been looking at the crazy equations laid out on his desk that described what could and could not happen for the playoff hopes of the members of the WAC/WFC play pool in the MML. There was a knock at the door. Frost called out for the one who sought admission to let themselves in.
A skink, wearing a Slaan Seers t-shirt, over the traditional skink attire, walked in through the door. Unlike the skink players on the Slaan Seers team who mainly communicated through cheeps and chirrups this one actually spoke in the common tongue; “Good evening Mr Frost, sir.”
Frost looked up from his desk and took a deep draw on his cigar. “You will do nicely, very nicely indeed. I see my contacts in Lustria have done a much better job than normal.”
The skink spoke again; “Indeed Mr Frost. One fully mentally reprogrammed, magically altered and utterly loyal Overseer Mk III, reporting for duty, sir. May I also say I have been fully apprised of your wonderful over-arching top secret ‘plan’ for the Slaan Seers and I can’t wait to, as part of that wonderful plan, take to the field to also assist in making it happen! I also would like to thank you for allowing me to be the first of the members of the Slaan Seers team to meet you in person. I would also…”
Josiah Frost shook his head sharply and interjected, “Oh no, Overseer Mk III, you won’t be taking to the field just yet! We are facing the most important match of the Slaan Seers, admittedly relatively short history! We have wood elves to beat! The Harrelson’s in fact; for a chance at the MML playoffs!”
“But ‘the plan’ Mr Frost sir,” pleaded the Overseer Mk III.
“The plan, sadly, very sadly, will have to wait!” was the reply Frost gave. “I want that shot at the playoffs! It will be very hard, and we will probably fail! – But we have to try! I have a plan, a terrible, uncomfortable and unpleasant plan. I am so glad you are here, you can help me with it!” By this point he was on his feet waving his arms around to emphasise his point and looking at further diagrams on the office notice board, along with a specially commissioned picture of the White Owlz players, being defiled by a Kroxigor. The cigar and brandy were left on his desk.
The Overseer Mk III nodded. He stealthily slipped his tongue into the brandy glass when Frost wasn’t looking and took a drag on the cigar before choking and cursing in the usual chirrups and cheeps of the skinks; in the language of the Lizardmen.
“I speak fluent Lizardman! So wash your mouth out you filthy little creature,” said Frost. He looked at the image of the Kroxigor doing horrendous things to some wood elves, again, however. He stroked his beard for a moment before continuing; “Having said that, Overseer Mk III, it isn’t a bad idea at all!”