The coach watched incognito from high in the stands, gnawing at a wedge of Skaven Mature and washing the taste out of his mouth with a pint of XXXXXX. He didn’t need a disguise. Nobody, even (or especially) his former… Read the rest

A small device, sewn into a collar, with a tiny payload. Comissioned with no expense spared. Triggered at just the right moment it could wreak havok with the vampire physiology. Those high kicks the dark elves enjoy. All it had… Read the rest

By all accounts the Fangs had managed a successful season. Tony had crippled his fair share of players at both ends of the pitch, Eddie had pulled off his crowd pleasing throws, even the surviving thralls seemed content enough. And… Read the rest

Patterned snakeskin boots with crisp white socks. Black pinstripe fitted trousers. Deep purple ruffled satin shirt. Black leather waistcoat. Velvet burgundy cape. Hair waxed, perfectly styled. Spiked ball in one hand, the other holding up a box of Skaven Cheese… Read the rest

The Fangs wandered from the field, aimless, shattered and shocked, after a game of many firsts but none of the kind they had needed. Their elven curse remained unbroken, still yet to achieve a win in the regular season against… Read the rest