DreadClaw
Joined: Nov 17, 2003
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 Posted:
May 20, 2005 - 19:03 |
 
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This thread is meant for all the people with too much imagination, spare time, or people in their lunch-hour wanting a bit of reading.
Fumbbl Story telling time!
Brayce walked slowly to the shower. the sheer shame of the tragic defeat was still hanging heavily on his shoulders. It had all gone horribly wrong. He had been doing everything the coach had ordered, everything he wanted...and still they lost.. it wasn't HIS fault that he forgot to tie his shoes and fell on his face when he was about to score...surely the coach would understand...
They had been so proud, so allconquering... Their 4 blitzers had all been doing their job, Charles even breaking that beasts collarbone... But it all went sour. His fellow catcher Henry got impaled on a Beastman claw, The blitzer Ryle got his knee smashed, and Peter, the thrower and quarterback was so mauled he wouldn't play anymore this game... Then the turning point... in a desperate attempt, charles knocked the ball free. Keanu, who was playing his first game, did a suicidal sweep and pulled the ball out, and threw it towards Brayce. It had been a clumsy attempt, but accurate enough for him to catch it with a giant leap. he had started running for the endzone, if he could just make this victory would be snatched from the jaws of defeat... and then he fell.. he remembered nothing, except waking up in the knockout booth... he saw his left shoe untied, and the right lace ripped off by his own boot....
He permitted himself to cry. He heard they lost and the team all blamed him.. His Bloodbowl reputation was wrecked. he wouldn't be able to go on..not anymore.
So, he packed up his bag. He pulled off his lucky socks, and pulled on his daily attire. He left a note of resignation, and with that, he left the locker room. Never again would Brayce play bloodbowl. Never again would the Kennburrough Captains play a game. The coach had thrown in the towel, and the team retired.
But Brayce had plans. He would pick up his savings, and start a Bar. he would..*SWISSSSSH* with a thud, Brayce fell to the floor, the crossbowbolt lodged in his ear. Keanu looked down and spat at the corpse: "That's for ruining my bloodbowl career..." |
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Death be not proud. Though Some have called thee Mighty and Dreadful Thou art not so. |
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LordSnotball
Joined: Nov 05, 2004
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| Posted:
May 20, 2005 - 19:19 |
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Jinxed
Joined: Jul 04, 2004
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| Posted:
May 20, 2005 - 19:20 |
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On a fine sunny day in which the waving hair of the Laurelorn Lightnings was
looking even more splendid than should be possible for mere mortals they
fielded the pitch vs the foul brethren of Lizardkind.
Benjamin Ballsender, the famous thrower wore an iron mask to prevent the
maidens fainting just looking at his immaculate features as did Jonathan
Swiftfoor and Jermiah Ballgrabber, the feared Wardancer-duo. Their noble
features may be hidden but their muscular bodies, clad in skin-tight leather
was still a sight too spectacular for many a young elven maiden and yet
again scores fainted just seeing them stroll on the pitch.
The Wood-Elves won the toss and opted to receive. It is always good to put
the fear of God in the foul Lizardkind and show these stunted, awkward
creatures the way in which you handle a ball with grace.
Benjamin Ballsender scooped up the ball with Godlike agility while Jeremiah
Ballgrabber knocked aside (and KO'd in the process) a skink, thus opening a
gap in the inadequate defense of the foul lizardkind. Jonathan Swiftfoot
blocked a Saurus with the help of two of his friends and down he went like
the ton of bricks he was. Several line-elves poured through the gap created
by Jeremiah.
The lizards placed players in tackle-zones of all the noble elves and
blitzed to no avail.
Jeremiah casually dodged away from the hulking mass of the Saurus and blitzed
aside a skink next to one of his brethren. Benjamin did what he was famous
for and sent the ball with a perfect pass in the waiting hands of that elf.
He plucked it gracefully from the air and sprinted to the endzone.
1-0. Leaving the foul lizardkind reeling from the shock of the graceful
moves and stunning beauty.
The ball was kicked deep into the lizard half, a skink scuttled over an
picked it up and ran for cover between many of his team mates. The inept
call this infuriating despicable tactic 'the Cage'. Jeremiah curled his
perfect lips in disgust and directed a few of his team mates to the
tackle-zone of the Sauri protecting the ball-carrying skink. He then sprinted
to that skink and with a superbly executed leap he suddenly appeared next to
the poor unsuspecting skink and knocked him down. The ball scattered
straight to Jeremiah whom, undaunted by the presence of 4 opposing players
surrounding him, caught it with supernatural grace. Those surrounding Sauri
tried to knock him over with their abundance of muscle, filthy attitude,
foul breath and any other means at their disposal and in the end he
succumbed to the superior numbers but -as you would expect from such a star-
he dropped the ball in a square next to two of his kin, thus making it hard
for the lizards to pick up that ball. And indeed they failed, lacking the
agility and skill of the vastly superior elves. A few pushes and shoves
later Jonathan Swiftfoot picked the ball up and dodged away to a waiting
team member whom only had to catch it to score. Unfortunately he was
distracted by a lily white silken smooth elven maiden and he failed to do
so. The lizards surged toward the ball but to no avail, Jonathan Swiftfoot
pushed aside one of them, picked up the ball and scored.
2-0. The filthy lizardcreatures knew they were in trouble.
A bad kick (cursed be the sun!) sent the ball of the field and the wily
Lizard Coach gave the ball to a Saurus. With only 2 turns to score and
outnumbered by now he had a tough task ahead of him. Unfortunately the Old
Ones smiled upon him and a few pushes and shoves later he managed to slip
through the battered elven defense.
2-1. Only a fluke. Nothing compared to the grace of the elves of course but
it was a touchdown.
The Lizards received and their drive met some stiff defense, a few turns
later it was Jeremiah Ballgrabber again leaping and blitzing, securing the
ball. A bit later he handed the ball to a teammate, graciously allowing
someone else to score. In the mean time the casualty boxes filled up quite
harshly; 2 skinks were badly hurt and one seriously injured while the
brutish strength of the filthy Sauri had caused 5 (!) line-elves to be badly
hurt in the process.
3-1.
3 line-elves on the LOS, both Wardancers and Benjamin Ballsender behind it
we knew we had to do some damage control but the win was ours. Even horribly
outnumbered the elves almost made it happen; another brilliant and dazzling
leap from Jeremiah Ballgrabber sailed over the dim-witted Sauri heads and
another blitz on the skink with he ball. Too bad his muscles began to ache
and tiredness had crept in because despite 2 attempts (RR) he failed to
bring down the skink. When he was knocked over and even stunned our last
real hope in stopping the drive of the lizards was gone.
3-2. Cursed be the day the foul lizards had spawned because as we all know
it should have been 4-0.
;D |
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Nuffle sucks |
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Shinan
Joined: Aug 02, 2003
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| Posted:
May 20, 2005 - 19:50 |
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The Unnamed Apothecary sat on his bench near the dugout smoking a cigarette. It wasn't easy being an apoth, the team always expected him to succeed in his job, not understanding that some injuries couldn't be healed. Damn, sometimes those magic beans just didn't work.
He had his own place in the dugout, bars on all sides, as much for keeping away the crowd as for keeping him in. One of the players had niggled out, something the Unnamed Apothecary was quite good at fixing, but the team rarely wanted him for that. Instead they expected to save people who had been beheaded. Especially today, he looked disinterestingly at the game for a while. In the blur of people, he didn't know, nor care whether they were players or crowd, there was a ball somewhere. It seemed mostly as if they were kicking each other in places that men were not to be kicked to the apothecary.
Suddenly the head coach ran into his part of the dugout, took out the keys that let the apoth out of his cage.
"Jacob's hurt badly, go fix him up!" the head coach shouted and the apoth threw his cigarette on the floor, nasty habit, bound to kill him one day or the other. But his contract was for life and he hoped to get out of it soon. Slowly he walked out of the cage signallig the stretcher-bearers to come with him. The game was off in a strange magical way while the apoth walked on the pitch. It seemed almost as if punches hung in the air, waiting to be delivered but not until the apothecary had done his job. The crowd wasn't so still though and cheered and booed as the apoth came on the field.
There weren't very many who were fans of the apoth. When he did his job they said nothing and when he didn't they'd try to break into his cage and kill him. He saw the man lying on the floor, pale and bloodied. One arm was twisted in an unnatural way and he no longer breathed.
How could they expect someone to heal this? he thought to himself but leaned closer to the dead man. There was still a faint whisper of life in the guy. A strong will to continue to play Blood Bowl, an eagerness. Not all players had this, but those that had. The apoth knew he could save those. Dramatically the apoth stood up and crowd gave up a gasp as he stomped the man real hard in the neck. This man had been killed by a foul and he'd damn well be revived by one too.
Blood flew out from the dead man's mouth, a couple of teeth as well. But he was alive again. Coughing up blood, lying on the field and the crowd cheered and the goblin with spiky boots looked very annoyed. The apoth gave him a glance and he knew that the man lying on the ground would die again today and then he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
But that was the spirit of Blood Bowl he thought as he walked out with a loud crowd cheering and booing and the game continued as if nothing had happened. |
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"Älä löi, en ole hurrit." |
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DreadClaw
Joined: Nov 17, 2003
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| Posted:
May 20, 2005 - 20:01 |
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On the prowl.
Nartik ran. Ran, ran and ran some more. He had been running since last night. And still he could hear it. Still he could feel it. Still cold fear crept up his back like a fever. The demon was not hindered by obstacles, or anything. He was not even hindered by time and space. He just was.
Nartik had summoned him. Nartik had used his power. Now Nartik had to pay for that power. Demons provided great power.. but the cost was allways in blood. Nartiks blood. Nartik did not want to die. So he ran.
As long as Nartik ran, his spirit was in motion. the demon would not be able to find him. Nartik needed to find a sacred place... but no sacred place would let a skaven in.. The only place would be the tower. The great tower of the horned one. The only place he would receive protection..in exchange for his soul, or maybe a limb.. but not his life. Only a few more miles...
The plan had been simple. He would summon the demon, let it kill his offerings, and then kill the target. and vanish in thin air like an eshin assasin. But the demon had demanded a bigger offer, and Nartik agreed.. little did he know the bigger offer involved him, and not more slaves.
So he ran. Just 2 more miles. Just 1... 200 more meters... 100... 50...10...4....1 ... he was in. safety was there. he fell asleep almost instantly... and woke up in a room of sheer terror... how could this be?
A voice thundered through the chamber: When summoning a demon to enhance your powers Nartik...Next time it would be wise not to flee to the sanctuary worshipping that god.. unfortunately for you... there will not be a next time!... With that, the demon ripped out Nartiks spine and devoured his soul...
Morale of the story? Demonsummoning is bad without a handbook and a good safehaven! |
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Death be not proud. Though Some have called thee Mighty and Dreadful Thou art not so. |
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Erok
Joined: Jan 07, 2004
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| Posted:
May 21, 2005 - 00:11 |
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It was a beautiful summer morning in Happyvale. All the players of the Happyvale Turnipfarmers Halfling team was singing there favorite song while preparing there second breakfast.
Mr. McKnucles (the Ogre) hummed along cheerfully and polished his colossal ironclad boots.
“Listen up boys” said Mr. Erok (the team coach). Everybody turned to face the only human around the fireplace. “Gnomes can be tricky opponents to play and they have a nasty tendency to bring all sorts of nasty equipment to the pitch” Mr. Erok continued.
“Pay special heed if some of those long-nosed bastards brings boobs and cannons along, it’s been seen before I assure you” Mr. Erok said, followed by mumbling amongst the players.
“JUUUST LEEET THEEM COOOMMME TOOO MEEEE” Mr. Solid oak (the Treeman or Tree- person as he prefers to be called) rumbled.
Later that same day the Happyvale Turnipfarmers ran onto the pitch under the roar of 86000 howling spectators. Mr. Sven Sweettooth made one of his trademark ballet steps which made the crowd go even more wild and Mr. Bruno Butterfinger flexed his enormous biceps (for Halfling standards), when he passed the only Happyvale cheerleader. The apposing gnome team looked grim and determined as they took up there positions. Especially the savage gnome Daredevils looked ready for killing and maiming as they strode towards the line of scrimmage.
The whistle sounded and the Gnomes kicked the ball high. Before the ball had barely touched the ground the Gnomes were moving. One of the sneaky bastards produced a small bomb and threw it right at Mr. McKnuckles and Mr. Bruno Butterfinger. Bruno tried to intercept the boom but it blew up in his face. Luckily the rather stout Mr. Bruno only got stunned and Mr. McKnuckles escaped the blast. Some Halflings went down hard under the surprise attack but most of the line held.
Mr. Mcknuckles bend down low and build up his momentum to pay the Gnome bomber back for his unsportsmanlike behavior.
With a bone chilling crunch the Ogres enormous hulk collided with the Gnomes small figure. When the dust-cloud cleared the Gnome lay very still on the ground in a very unhealthy position.
Mr. Sven Sweettooth swept across the field and picked up the ball while running with elflike grace.
He ran down the field as if all the demonic hordes of chaos were hot on his tail, dodging left and right. The rest of the Halflings did a fantastic job of screening Sven as he approached the end-zone.
Mr. Solid oak swung his enormous branchlike arm and connected on the head of an unfortunate Gnome. The poor little guy newer knew what hit him, as his skull crumbled under the massive impact. He was dead before he hit the ground. The Gnome apothecary didn’t even bather getting up from his chair. Close to the end-zone Mr. Sven Sweettooth got hit by a Gnome that seemed to come out of nowhere. He went down dangerously close to the sideline and dropped the ball. Luckily his teammates were close by and quicly came to assistance. In the meantime Mr. McKnuckles kept on plowing his way through the opponents with devastating effect. His ability to make multiple blocks made mincemeat of the Gnomes and quite a few newer got up again. Soon Mr. Sven Sweettooth had recaptured the ball and scored the fourth touchdown of his career after leaping out of harms way.
In the first moments of the second half, disaster struck. Mr. Little Ed got a nasty hit from a Gnome bomber and left this world in a cloud of black smoke. His small charred figure lay very still on the ground and the apothecary decided that nothing could be done.
Desperate to even the score the Gnomes ran deep and tried to fire the ball across the field in a cannon! Fortunately the gunners aim was way off target, and the ball went too far.
Soon the ball was traveling in the opposite direction in the hands of Mr. Joe Hotlegs. The few remaining Gnomes could do nothing to stop him from scoring and in an act of desperation the little buggers tried to foul Mr. Solid Oak out. Had it not been for the quick intervention of the apothecary it would have resulted in a nickling injury to Mr. Solid Oak.
Happyvale Turnipfarmers could celebrate another astonishing victory with the final score of 2-0, but everybody mourned the death of poor little Ed. |
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DreadClaw
Joined: Nov 17, 2003
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| Posted:
May 22, 2005 - 19:48 |
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Pix'l Kix'l looked at his team. He was their teams nr 1. fouler. He felt proud, and kept score of how many times he kicked a guy into the hospital and how many times he had been sent off (27 guys and 31 send offs). He was the skink oddball in the team. instead of wanting touchdowns, or balls thrown.. he wanted to get sent off after killing something. His philosophy: If i kick a guy who had better skills than i off, and then get sent off i did my duty and don't have to die that day on the pitch! Yes, Pix'l Kix'l was fairly smart for a bloodbowl skink.
Today they would face Gorkerz Bashaz. A fairly unknown orc team. Pix'l looked and saw to his satisfaction that one of the blitzers acted like he was all that and a bag of chips. He would feel pix'l's Boot soon enough.
The kickoff... Bash'imded the teams leading saurus, ran in and blitzed the would-be star. Most of the skinks scurried on, and Pix'l ran in. He immediately spotted it. The Orc's gut was unprotected due to a large ornament adorned there. A huge SPLOOOSH was heard... the apothecary rushed to the field, and saw he couldn't do a thing. the fans cheered and boo'ed the apothecary and Pix'l. In his mind Pix'l said: 28.
Pix'l looked around him. The Orcs fell one of his brethren... time to do his vanishing act again. He ran up to a random Orc and Brutally kicked him in the face with a huge act, fully expecting to hear the whistle, sending him off... instead he saw the orc skull dislodge from his head, and hear a roaring crowd, which overstemmed the referee. 29 Pix'l thought, with a slight panic
Cursing inside, pix'l decided to try again. Another orc fell, and Pix'l kicked him in the crotch with even MORE show, this would SURELY let the ref see he was doing something illegal. But again the ref seemed blind, and the orc fainted under the pain.
Pix'l was getting desperate. The orcs came ever closer, and still he hadn't been sent off... And Lik'intehbal the skink, to make matters worse, ran up to him and shoved the ball in his paws. Pix'l, now in sheer terror, ran towards the endzone. If he could plant it in the orc zone, maybe he would be safe. Orcs grunted and bellowed, and chased him all across the field.
Panic Gripped Pix'l. He ran not only for a score. but to save his skin. he didn't want the ball.. he wanted to be sent off!
Another moment. another step closer to the endzone, and many orcs who were slowly breaking the saurus line. Pix'l sprinted, and a huge roar bellowed through the stadium. Pix'l Kix'l SCOOOOOOREEEES! was heard through the speakers, and Pix'l regained some of his breath. Now he could kick an orc even MORE obvious and finally get sent off.
He set up, the saurus in front, accepting the blows, while the skinks defended the backfield.
A black orc fell. Pix'l Kix'l ran in, and in his sprint picked up one of the Orc Helmets and bashed in the orcs skull with it. 30 he thought before he even looked, but the ref STILL didn't blow his whistle. Pix'l was now desperate. he was alone in orc territory. And the orcs seemed VERY disgruntled about Pix'l kicking in their team mates skulls.
A bulky orc placed a blow on pix'ls skull. Pix'l fell. Pix'l looked up, and saw an orc looking down at him. The orc bellowed: Me be 'ead kikka. Ead kikka kiks jor 'ead off. With that, he placed his boot in Pix'ls skull. the last thing Pix'l ever heard in his life was the ref blowing his whistle.... |
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Death be not proud. Though Some have called thee Mighty and Dreadful Thou art not so. |
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DreadClaw
Joined: Nov 17, 2003
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| Posted:
May 23, 2005 - 13:40 |
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This is Tim Mcmanamaim and Colin Mcwraith Back from the charnel houses to bring you...
Thug B Gone!
Buy your own can of Thug B Gone now! By a single spray every thug is just gone! Using a complex mix of chemicals, that are offcourse environmentally damaging, you will be able to simply SPRAY away the opposition!
Some teams, who tried Thug B Gone have been very extatic about it, for example:
'ead Kikka: Us orczes used da thug b gone on a stOOpid lizard. sure da ref sent me off but da skink was gone!
Johnny Turmac: Thanks Thug B Gone! Without your awesome spray i would've been dead for a long time! But now that i have it i can get people off the pitch with minimum efforts!
You heard it folks! Thug B Gone, the latest of inventions! After the Mcblowalls and the Exploding Orcidas, we bring you: THUG B GONE!
*successes in the past have no guarantee for the future, side-effects include drymouth, nausea, arthritis, painfull hemorraging, niggling injuries, stat decreases , delusions, nearsightedness tumors and death*
THUG B GONE! In stores now for only 5,000 GP! If you order now, you get your 2nd Thug B Gone can for only half the price! |
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Death be not proud. Though Some have called thee Mighty and Dreadful Thou art not so. |
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