An Unwanted Touchdown

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 the sharp eared showboaters. Norbert had scored his quickest touchdown yet, running it in mere seconds before the final whistle, but it served only as scant consolation after a firm hammering.

Worst of all though, the unthinkable had happened. Midway through the second half Norbert, surrounded by elves and operating purely on instinct, glimpsed someone make a run. He knew there was a body in the endzone and if he didn’t act they would be overrun. He snatched the ball from the ground between an elf and a sideline, broke free of the scrum and threw. The ball, perfectly aligned, soared into the waiting arms of… a thrall. A thrall. In the split second he saw what he had done he tackled the reciever to the ground and initiated celebrations, hoping the crowd and his fellow players would think he had simply thrown and caught his own pass. It wouldn’t be the first time he had added a nice bit of flair to a score, would it? Completely within character.

But he wasn’t fast enough, and even after the game was over the thrall’s name still lingered on the lips of a smattering of pundits and punters. Some even seemed to think he was worthy of a promotion, but they all knew Tony wasn’t fond of sharing, and the thralls with promise always seemed to taste just that little bit better.

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