It’s not easy being the only human living at the Rorcs of Revelation pub. The mood round here is pretty toxic, and whatever the hierarchy, yours truly is definitely at the bottom. Cleaner, counsellor, scapegoat and punching bag. Only two games in and I’m frankly struggling to hold this team together.
Sardonyx Simon is threatening to quit since everyone still keeps calling him an elfswodge, even though he is still the only one who ever scores. Emerald Elvis is still sulking about not having any removals and they are still calling him “The Mighty Tickler”. He swears he will kill someone next game, even if it has to be one of his own team.
Chrysolite Chris is devastated about Beryl Beryl’s death in the last game against the Grimbeards. And no wonder, I can see his name crudely chalked on the board to have a turn with Beryl next week. Pointing out that they were clearly related was a bad move on my part, that cost me the use of my left arm for several days. He’s made a few advances on her replacement, Betty Beryl, but so far she’s shown none of Beryl Beryl’s promiscuous tendencies and prefers to spend her time with me, the coach, learning about the rules of Blood Bowl. This has got a number of the lads in a tizzy to be honest, and tensions are really mounting at the Rorcs pub. There’s a twinkle in the Beryl stone though and with Topaz Tony out for next game, Betty is convinced she can level up before he can, which has of course got all the line guys taking the piss out of Tony non-stop. Poor bugger can’t even stand up to defend himself. He just lies in the corner of the pub, grumbling, and chain smoking the last of the squig-drop resin.
We’ve also had a bit of trouble with Sapphire Sam. He’s gone awol. Last we heard he’s been raising terror in the back streets behind the stadium with Ugroth, the goblin star player who illegally took part in our first match against the Denver Dynamos. As coach I had to make a formal apology for Ugroth’s involvement, but the team haven’t demonstrated a shred of remorse. In fact I think Sam and Ugroth might be becoming inseparable. Those two psychos seem to be singing from the same hymn sheet. Rage, murder, chaos, death. Sam hasn’t been seen at practice all week, and he really needs to be there to tighten up his act after that mad blitz misclick in the last game’s defence. I just hope he hasn’t been arrested. We can’t afford to go two block players down.
Only Sardonyx Simon, Chalcedony Chaz and Sardius Sid have been turning up to practice. Simon because he his obsessed with training. He reckons he can up his agility next game. We think it’s impossible, but he thinks he’s got Nuffle’s number. I tell him he should have got the AG up first, before choosing all the elf skills, but there’s no talking to him. I’ve seen the new thrower Rorcsin Wun Basket spying on Sam from behind the stands, mimicking his training. He spent the whole of the match vs the Grimbeards trying to pull off dodges like his hero Simon. It was embarrassing. Poor bastard, the others won’t even let him in the pub. He sleeps outside. They won’t even let him have a stone of his own, which is odd, because we’ve got one spare. Maybe because nobody can say chrysoprasus. It’s too many syllables for an orc.
Chaz and Sid turn up to practice because, well, they are just the nice guys, aren’t they? They are always on my side. “Take guard first, not block”, I says. And Sid is like, sure, whatever boss. I can’t believe that guy. So decent. He doesn’t even grumble about having to babysit Sam and his frenzy rampage every game. He just rolls up into the scrum and makes sure Sam doesn’t get outgunned. What a guy. I mean, really, what a guy!
Jasper has been training on his own, which is nice to see for a line guy. He’s mostly just running laps of the neighbourhood, since he fell down rushing for the end zone last game, possibly costing us the win. I didn’t have a go at him or anything, it was bad luck more than anything else. At least he tried.
To be honest, its these four that are holding the team together at the moment. The atmosphere in the pub is pretty dark and the stones are looking pretty lacklustre. The red stones are looking OKish, that’s Sid, Joe and Jasper, and the Sapphire is burning maybe too brightly while Sam is out on the lash, but the green emerald and chrysolite are looking dull and that can’t be right for a green skin team. I try to cheer them up. “We’re undefeated in the league!” I remind them, but it’s not hitting the mark.
It’s OK though, I’ve got another crate of squib-drop arriving before next game, plus three cases of fungicol. That’ll straighten em out. The wasters. They always play better when they’re a bit mashed.
Hold on… someone’s coming.
The mop cupboard door, my forced, makeshift bedroom, is yanked open.
“Oi coach – wozs dat you doin’?”
“Oh nothing Chris, I was just jotting down some thoughts”
“We don’ts want you finking nuffink rite narr, ee-jot. Gets outta de cubbed and cumun cleen up. Sam iz back and e’s done a massive chunda ova da bar. Sort it owt, or I sorts you owt. Goddit?”
I get the mop.