Iron City CHEATERS?!

“Don’t let the Russian dudes in tight pants fool you,” Coach Sardonic said, chewing through a large bite of a roasted skink sandwich, “they’re aliens. One hundred percent.”

Not exactly the response I was expecting when I asked for opinions on the new playpool, as the Cleverly ORChestrated squad entered their second-and-a-half season of MML Challenge League action.

“The Elves are elves. They dance and throw and sing and frolic. That’s what elves do. The Nurgle, well, we don’t have to worry about them anymore. But our Blitzer Takru… well… he gets a real nasty burning sensation when he pees ever since we played them. I don’t think he’s going to make it to this week’s game.”

I brought up the notion that he had been hit by an abnormally large rock, but Coach Sardonic dismisses with a wave of his sandwich.

“Blitzers get hit by rocks all the time, rocks don’t hurt. Thakareedu viruses…” The coach motioned downwards, “now THAT is painful. Plus, it’s embarrassing to walk into the apothecary and ask for some of that topical cream for nurgle’s rot on your ‘Beast of Nurgle’, if ya know what I mean…”


Luckily the door burst open, and starting troll Daffodil enters waving a piece of paper in Coach Sardonic’s face. He grabs it, reads quickly, and his eyes grow wide.

“I knew it. Get me the press!”

I looked at him, perplexed, and noted that I am the press.

“Good, we need to talk!”

If Black Orcs weren’t so fearsome in size, nobody would ever take them seriously about anything.


He grunted the word, as it if were damning proof, and slammed the paper down. On it, in hastily scribbled Orc handwriting, was a complete roster of the Iron City Orc Boyz. Everyone from fan favorite Rusty Iron Jaw to new recruit Dynamite Mike was listed on there, as well as numerous scrawlings in red ink, a pool of what appears to be spilled Bloodweiser, and possibly a frowny-face drawn in the side margin.

“No other orc team playing right now has the advantages that these players have. Grubnash Bruis’Zeye is one of the strongest Black Orcs to ever play the game. Dog-Fighter Vicce is every bit as agile as our boy Gorkost, and we had to scout him directly out of PeeWee Blood Bowl Leagues to get that! Rocky Danger is one of the faster blitzers this league has ever seen, and Ignatious Da Great is constantly matching his speeds!”

I’m sure I looked stunned. Or confused. Either way, my brain was not finding any words to spew out my mouth.

“So clearly they’re cheating. I don’t know if they’re going down the path that took the Grunts from us, with performance enhancing shenanigans… or if it’s cybernetically augmen…ahem…ORCmentation. Perhaps they are in cahoots with the aliens!”

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, aliens again.

“Here’s my statement. Make sure this makes it to the Orc Boyz, loud and clear.”

After a rather gross throat clear, his sandwich is flung against the wall, and Coach Sardonic stands and bellows forcefully.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, Coach Jiggs, but I’m going to beat you at it. We beat you two seasons ago, you were LUCKY to tie us last season, and this season — we’re going for it all. I want the win, I want your pride, and I want Bruis’Zeye’s scalp mounted on the wall behind me as a token of my victory. You may be using aliens, or drugs, or science… but these Cleverly ORChestrated boys don’t go down without a fight.”

Pause, for dramatic effect.

“And when we KNOW the opponents are cheaters, well…”

He picks the sandwich up from the floor, and takes another menacing bite.

“…we don’t pull any punches. See you week seven.”


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