This is a tale of a time long ago, before Blood Bowl fell into oblivion, a tale about a little goblin's amazing career (this is a continuation from the first instalment in GLN #3). All characters and events in this story are totally fictitious and any resemblances to real life and/or FUMBBL characters are totally unintended. Furthermore the author admits that the abilities of some characters in this story may not be in consistence with any of the official or unofficial Blood Bowl rules known - this is just a story

Gnot regained consciousness. Darkness surrounded him. Where was he? What has happened? He began to remember... the tavern... the orcs... the fear... he caught his breath as suddenly someone emptied the bag on the floor. He raised his head and looked around. He lay on the floor of a large room, the walls were made from coarse rocks, the door behind him was closed and there was only G'morg who sat on a chair behind a large wooden table. Still on his knees, Gnot instantly started to beg: "Pleez, don't hurt me. Let me go.... pleeeze!!!!!" G'morg sat calm and serene in his bulky chair. "Why should i?", he responded with his hard and cold voice, "I want ya on my team. Want ya to play da game." Gnot didn't trust his ears, why should somebody want him to play in this sport? Why, in Mork's name, why ME? Why? Never been sportink, never been tuff... They will hurt me, will kill me... no... pleeze.. Let little Gnot go..." Whining and whimpering Gnot crawled towards a corner, trying to hide his face in fear. G'morg showed no mercy and stony-faced he went on, "You can choose, play for da team or meet Tsor and Gnarshik again, but dis time no-one will be dere to help ya." This had to be a sadistic joke, an example of G'morg's perverted sense of humour, but as Gnot rose his head to look into the old orcs face he suddenly recognized that his counterpart was very serious about this. Now that indeed were great prospects, either get slowly and painfully torn apart by two raging orcs that would surely let him suffer as much as possible before he would die an unworthy death or go along with these villains in the same team and play a game that is known for it's brutality and violence, a game in which his life might depend on even these guys that would enjoy nothing more than to kill him... what a mess!!!

Both choices looked like certain death, but there was a chance that accepting G'morg's offer might turn out as the lesser of these two evils. Sobbing and snivelling, the goblin stood up with his knees still trembling and G'morg started to grin, knowing he'd got his way. "Now dat is a good gobbo, hrhrhr. So, let'z go and see da team." They went down a long hallway, made of the same rocks as the room they came from, their footsteps resounded from the walls and created an eldritch atmosphere. The further they went the louder Gnot could here some voices, orcish voices laughing with a vicious undertone and he started to sweat more with each step and doubt grew within him, doubt if he would survive this day or if his new comrades will feast upon his innards at the end of the day. But he could not escape, G'morg held his neck with a tight grasp and so Gnot surrendered to his fate.

Raucous bawling came from the locker room and a blast of stuffy air full of sweat hit Gnot as G'morg opened the door. Gnot got pushed inside and the soundscape immediately silenced as the others recognized the stumbling and shivering goblin. Most of them looked puzzled but on some faces Gnot noticed greedy glance and an indication of a sadistic smile, which scared the hell out of him. "What the...," Tsork started, as he recognized who stood before him, but got interrupted by G'morg: "Team, our new player." Hysterical laughter broke out even before his words trailed away, and Gnot felt even worse, like living through a nightmare he just couldn't wake up from. But silence found it's way into the room again, when G'morg hit the orc next to him so hard into the face that he fell right down, bleeding and swearing. "He is the new memba, you idiots better think about what useless lil' gits you were, before I took care of ya!", and with a look to Noreg he continued, "No-one will to'ch him, no-one! Got it?" Meanwhile Gnot noticed that the door was still open and nobody was watching, all were distracted. He decided to seize this chance and took his heels out through the doorway all the way back G'morg led him. But where could he run? He had no clue were he could find an exit; there were no doors, no windows. He ran through the corridors but couldn't find anything and the chasing voices behind him just grew louder and louder. He reached some stairs leading upwards, maybe he was in the basement and up there was a way out, he had to give it a try. Breathing hard he reached the upper level and his steps became slower. Still no exit. He ran left. He ran right. All doors were locked, he lost orientation completely. He felt like running in circles, shouting voices everywhere. Then suddenly as he hasted around a corner something heavy hit him, and he got buried under a huge pile of green flesh.

To be continued...