“"Dear Gods they hitting us out of this game", exclaimed Manfred.

"I know, I know but they are throwing crazy fouls and losing players too", winked Joseff, as they set up to defend at the start of the 2nd.

"But more graveyarders? Why the hell are they tolerated?"

"They pay well, is the only reason for this game. What overheads do these things possibly have. Anyways I'll be surprized if the necromancer gets far from here. It's a good journey to the forests or the mountains. Lots of slayers and witchhunters from there to here. I miss the elves, personally. At least they don't smell like these. Anyway, we're doing a public service, for the good of the Empire", Joseff grinned.

"Well I'm just happy I got the target I was looking for. That wolf looks a little under the weather", Clash shouted from the dugout, where he was kicking his heels, again.

The whistle blew for the game. The rain had held off and Brymstone, although they had taken quite a beating, had taken another win. The chants of the home fans echoed through the streets of the rapidly, growing town. Those not at the game, smiled in the knowledge. Those who's games were about to commence, sharpened their steel, loaded their flint-locks and waited for the gauntlet to be run.”