Two figures sat perched on rickety wooden benches watching the High Elves train. One a chubby little elf boy, busy munching on a McMurtys. The other a slightly disheveled human female with spectacles slipping down her nose, clutching a quill and parchment. She glared at the boy, whose slurping noises where becoming distracting.
“Hey kid, you here to check out the new catcher?”
The boy paused only briefly to spit out a sentence. “What new catcher? I just come for the training injuries.” And resumed with devouring the greasy meal.
“I’m wondering how a team like the Vermilion Vanquishers managed to sign anyone but a rookie. They didn’t even push for a CL playoff spot. There is a story here, I can smell it.” The young woman flipped her quill around in her fingers, as she looked back to the elves dodging and tackling each other. A lineman caught a full clothes line from team Captain Flamespyre, causing the young boy to laugh.
In the corner of her eye she caught some activity at one of the doors to the Red Court Stadiums executive suites (which were just painted with a slightly nicer red compared to economy tickets). A gaggle of elves in fine clothes burst out into the sunshine of the training field. They circled a tall, well built, brute of an elf, who strolled gracefully onto the nicely kept grass.
“Ah, Sigmars beard, there he is” The reporter sprang to her feet and walked as fast as she could manage, navigating a slippery patch of grass with barely contained enthusiasm. Elbowing her way past the suits she poked her head up and yelled at the elven athlete. “Celeborn! Celeborn! Any comments for Spike?” The elf stopped mid stride and turned swiftly to bring his steely gaze to bare on the reporter. “But of course, anything for Spike, and you might be?”
“Penny Wordsworth, Spikes elven Farm specialist. I’ve seen all your games. But the burning question is however, why would you leave a successful team to join one that has a tendency to ‘loose’ catchers?” She pushed her spectacles back up her nose, and licked the end of her quill, ready to record every word…
The elven catcher threw back his head and let out a deep haughty laugh that reverberated around the grounds. Causing even the training Vanquishers team to pause. “Ah, my dear, you have been gravely misinformed I fear. I am partaking of a tour to promote pre-orders for my new book, Big Hands & Big Dreams. I even signed one for coach Cav here. Then I will return to the genius of coach Gerdleah. Well, when he stops tinkering with rats.”
Penny raised a quizzical eyebrow, and chewed on her quill. “You see, it was Coach Cav himself who invited Spike here to the signing of ‘a big deal’ as he put it in the letter.” Pointing to the half elven coach of the Vermilion Vanquishers. Celeborn in turn shot a questioning expression, as did the entourage of suits. Even the chubby boy on the bench stopped munching, followed by the elven team who wondered over with curiosity…and possibly concern.
Coach Cav smiled and pulled out a neatly bound scroll. It unraveled to reveal a very detailed pre-order form which stated that he would be delighted to receive the gold bound collectors edition of Big Hands & Big Dreams. Celeborns elaborate signature nestled neatly at the bottom with a pert thank you message. “See my dear? As I said you were…” But before the catcher could finish, the scroll glittered with ethereal light, and the writing began to shift and snake across the page into an equally detailed contract. A very real one, binding the catcher to the Vanquishers for the sum of 210,000 gold pieces.
“I believe in a few things, a good illusion wizard being one of them…also a good pair of running spikes…” and with that the coach legged it across the field, pocketing the contract back into his shirt as he did so. Behind him all hell broke loose as suits, Vanquishers, and a quite angry new signing scrambled over each other to give chase.
Penny Wordsworth chuckled, as her quill leapt into action. “What a Catch!” she muttered.