Well, at least they won’t drown in water….

 

Deep below the old world, in the elaborate systems that try to maintain some idea of a sanitary life above, a game was being played by the young creatures of the dark.

Discarded waste for goal posts, the head of a now unrecognizable animal used for a ball and no known rules, the rats entertained themselves for hours. Other tunnels were lined with graffiti and young rats flashed down on old planks of wood, surfing the effluence with speed, skill, daring and the occasional brain cell.

The Ballers and the Surfers despised each other, the fights and brawls leaving them scarred and angry. One fateful night, the two leaders met each other down a dark tunnel. The slow trickle of water chilling their feet as they circled each other claws and teeth bared. Their screeching echoing off of the thick tunnel walls disturbed an ancient beast from his slumber, grumpy and confused the beast attacked. The two rats ran for their lives through the maze of dark sewers, the Surfer found a plank of wood and grabbed the Baller just as the beast lashed out. He was safe, the large cut in his arm a small token of remembrance from the day the clans joined.

After that terrifying event the Surfers and the Ballers joined together, as they grew to adulthood their skills were spotted by a Blood Bowl coach looking to make his mark in the leagues of the Old World. Fool.

A team was formed….

The Sewer Surfers

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