Nova looks out from the balcony of his tower across the valley below, his perfectly-sculpted elven features gently illuminated in the fading moonlight. The light of the early dawn is just beginning to pierce the shadows and highlight the forested mountain slopes. Ocean fog still clings to the landscape like a delicate blanket, soon to be rolled back. He watches as some of the first birds to rise dance gracefully in the air, spinning and swooping. Fleetingly, his gaze falls on the common dwellings of the elven community below, the first workers beginning to stir from their slumber as a handful of lights slowly start to flicker on.

Then, suddenly, the sound of a single loud horn pierces the tranquil silence, sending a deep, reverberating note across the valley. Nova glances up at a nearby hilltop, as a fiery beacon bursts into life on the summit. A few seconds later, it is followed by another on a neighboring hilltop, then another, and another, as the signal is gradually relayed across the isle.

For a brief moment, he looks back inside, to where the three partially-clothed cheerleaders he picked up last night are pleading for him to come back to bed.

No, he thinks to himself as he straps on his bracers, enough procrastination (besides, I can always find some more). Now is the time to focus on the task ahead of us.

Felnor’s training over the past weeks and months has been tough and grueling – countless early morning drills at the training ground, polishing and perfecting passing moves, sprints, dodging. Now, all of the plays have been firmly etched into his mind and the team is starting to feel as one, like a well-oiled machine.

Now is our time; there is no room for failure. Our true-blood descendants will sing songs of our exploits through the centuries to come. We must defend the pride of Ulthuan against these outsiders, these savages, who would come to take our prize. Glory and honor must prevail on the Blood Bowl pitch! Let them come. We are ready.