7 votes, rating 5.3
“What’s up, Billy?” Inga’s bright blue eyes looks at him. “You seem so glum?” Billy shakes his head. “It just doesn’t seem right that these two should train with us. What if they learn our secret plays?” Inga arches an eyebrow, a gesture she has learnt from Anders and trained hard to master. “Great thinking, Billy!”, she says sarcastically. “Why don’t you go and share that thinking with Manfred and Dietmar? I’m sure they will be so touched by your intelligence that they will forget your apparent lack of trust in their ability to keep things secret…” Billy blushes violently. Inga grins. “You’re a good guy, Billy, but you need to learn to engage your brain before your mouth, not after!” Billy blushes even more violently, but bites his lip to prevent a smart answer. Somehow he is sure Inga would not have been impressed with his retort.
A little later, the stagecoach rolls into the town square, splashing mud and old, slushy snow everywhere. Two big guys jumps down from the roof of the coach with sailor sacks slung over their backs. One is plain, the other ugly with a scarred, smashed face and a nose that had been squashed more than once. Both are splashed with mud. Inga takes a step forward and addresses the ugly one. “You must be Sean”, she says. The big man shakes her hand. “How did you know?” Inga grins. “Manfred said the one with the squashed nose was Sean!” She turns to the other. “And thus, you must be Olivier”. She shakes his hand as well, and looks at both of them. Being at least 6’3”, they both tower over her 5’10” frame. “Boy, you guys are big!”, she quips. “And smart!”, grins Olivier, and the ice is broken. “Welcome to Carroburg!”; Inga says enthusiastically. “Billy will take you to the Pool to meet with Manfred and Dietmar. You can bunker down there. Short distance to the training field.”
Inga grabs some more cheesecake while deftly trying to avoid Giselbert’s, their halfling cook’s, attempt to slap her fingers with his big ladle. Giselbert glares at her, which has absolutely no effect on a player who routinely stares into the face of killers like a Don’t’a Higthower or a Lee Roy Salmon. She returns to the window and enjoys a splendid view of the Crimson Pool, where Dietmar and Manfred has yet another training session with the visiting Wolfskins blitzers. She feels the yearning. To be down there with them. To run. To pass the ball. To feel the leather caress her hand. The impact and confusion as she crushes into someone’s shoulder… or hip… or leg.. or someone does it to her. The yearning of Blood Bowl that sneaked more and more into her blood, her heart and her soul with every day passing… A long journey for a spoiled director’s daughter who only came down to the field to look at.. well…
A sudden sound made Inga turn around. It’s Nikki coming into the dining room/restaurant. Her graceful, yet strong steps can be heard as she goes to the counter to grab another “Carroburger”, Giselbert’s local speciality with the branded crimson vegetable sauce, albeit not with real Carroburghers in it. “I swear, you look more and more like a High Elf catcher every day, Nikki (Krukenberg just skilled up with a +AG to add to her +ST, giving her the stats 8-3-4-7)!” Inga says, as Nikki joins her by the window. “Glad you like it!”, Nicola answers as she tucks into her burger. “Isn’t that your third Carroburger, by the way… for lunch?” Nicola looks blandly at Inga and shrugs, almost sending the top bun off her plate as it slides on a sea of vegetable sauce. “And what about it? A girl needs to eat!”
Inga grins and they turn to watch the training. “Isn’t that Crazy Crawford’s piping voice whining? And isn’t that his arm sticking out from under that Olivier guy?” Inga grins. “Yep. You are absolutely right!” Nicola looks suspiciously at Inga. “How did you manage to make the most self-centered person in the Old World volunteer as a training target for two murderous blitzers?” Inga grins wider. “Easy. You only have to know what makes people tick!” She points with her thumb at Tyrone Crawford, who is struggling to get to his feet after being hit once again, this time by Sean Taylor. “In Tyrone’s case, I convinced him that if he volunteered as a practice target, he would get to kick the blitzers every time they didn’t do their job properly. He even agreed to let Manfred and Dietmar be referees as to whether they did hit well enough.” She laughs. “Best thing is, the arrangement makes the Wolfskin boys do their very best to smash him down again and again. Nobody in their right mind would enjoy being kicked by Crazy Crawford.” Nicola joins the laughter.
“Hear you and Manfred are taking them to town after practice tonight?” Nicola, finished with her burger and obviously contemplating whether to pick up another or not, nods. “Yeah. Although I have to say I rather had hoped they sent Ladarius than those two! He is the cute one!” Inga smiles. “Can’t say I disagree to that. Guess you have to make do with Sean’s ugly face.” Nicola grimaces. “Maybe you should bring them to the Honest Merchant? If you let them wear their Wolfskins jackets and leave your own Cascade jacket at home, you can discuss loudly the insufficiencies of certain Cascade quarterbacks, and you will have all the free training you need!” Nicola makes another grimace. “I’m not sure I like to beat up our very own fans.” Inga grins. “Come on, Nicola! They are Blood Bowl fans! What do you think they like to do on their spare time?” Nicola nods. “You’re right as always. I think we’ll do that. Should be fun! But what if they recognize me?” Inga arches an eyebrow again. “Just go there after 9 o clock. Everybody will be so drunk they won’t recognize their own mothers. Of course, if you want to be sure, you can always put your head in a black cloth bag. That way, nobody will recognize you. Makes it hard to brawl, though…” Nicola makes a rude gesture, but grins. “See you tomorrow for training, then. We have some Vikings to beat up on.” Inga waves as Nicola leaves, and turns toward the counter. She sighs as she realizes Giselbert has put the rest of the cheesecake away. He even grins triumphantly at her…
(Inspired by banter while playing the Wolfskins. Hope you like it, Dan! And that it helps!)