“"We've had severe clashes around the stadium already Mr Fyre", Alguss of the Home Guard reported. He had seen the action first hand, it seemed, as a trickle of blood emerged from the bottom of his helmet, running down over his nose.

"Casualties?"

"We've prepared the populace this time and they're in their homes, guards have sealed off their areas. The only place for the norse this time is around the stadium, thinly populated and away from the populated areas. We've got a few fires but nothing much the crews are on it now."

"What of the fighting itself?"

"The flagelants have heeded your warnings and are picking their targets. We're co-ordinating with them."

"You've joined forces with them?"

Alguss became angry with this. "In case you hadn't noticed sir this is not a little dust-up. This clash wouldn't be out of place on the battlefield. I've not seen this since I served."

"What about the troops heading in from Nuln?"

"You would know more of that than I, sir. I do not know why they are coming here but I can report that they haven't arrived yet".

"Very well......Well done Alguss I know this is a difficult time"

Alguss looked back over his shoulder and just nodded, as he left. His sword was already in his hand, it was blackened in areas with blood. His baton had stayed in it's sheaf.

The game was a night game.

"By Sigmar I hate these", Joseff grumbled to Charon, as they walked down the tunnel. He smelt smoke and saw a thin layer of it along the ceiling of the tunnel.

The doors opened to a great roar from the crowd. The stadium was chaotic, small fights were erupting throughout the stadium and the ever-expanding Home Guard were liberally using their batons but only on the norse. With their weapons confiscated at the there wasn't much the norsemen could do but back down or receive worse.

As he got onto the pitch he could feel something, something strange. His head snapped round to see a member of the closest norse calmly watching him, intently almost. Slim, tall and calm, almost serene. It just didn't look right, SHE didn't look right. He tried to blank that niggling feeling out of his head and focus but it kept coming back to him - "Assassin".

The game started well with Clash killing LegionXV's minotaur in the first minute and Fyre killing Eyse with a devastating elbow to the back of his thinly armoured neck.

"Beautiful", Clash roared. " I love this game" as he kicked War Dog's corpse with that blood-crazed look in his eye.

"You're the only man I fear, Clash" Logan Sabreguard yelled to him as he walked the opening touch down in.

The first half ended with the norse in dissaray and the Brymstonians walking it.

"By Sigmar! What's going on here. These guys are elves or what? Is this the same team? Get that Dolph down now. ", Lasha shrieked.

Q'ral was getting to grips with him and Fyre was open to blitz. He didn't like it though. He'd be too close to the crowd but he couldn't let the fans down and stormed towards the catcher. With fingers on his shoulders he stumbled to his knees just as Q'ral was toppled. Fyre tried to catch him as he fell but found himself being thrown into the crowd.

"Shit. This is not where I want to be damn it."

The norse fans scrambled towards him whilst the Brymstone fans circled around him as best they could. They did well and Joseff new it. As he smashed a few of the much smaller norsemen to the ground he could see his dugout and dragged himself in its direction.

The blade sank into his leg behind the right knee.

"A gift my love".

He new who it was even through the agonising pain. He turned his head to see the almost inocent eyes of the, now apparent, elven woman.
"You know for an assassin, you are beautiful" he smiled in spite of the pain, "But you are a poor assassin, my little whore", as he grabbed her hand ensuring she couldn't do anything else with the knife, he then noticed that it had snapped off.

His remark hit home but she kissed him, aggressively, passionately.

She licked here lips as they parted.

"We will meet again, my love" and pressed an amulet into his neck. The burning was incredible, even over the fire in his knee. He dropped, it all went black.

He woke in the surgery. An alchemist and priest applying salves to his leg, the blade fragment extracted and discarded on the floor.

"Well, we won", but Charon couldn't even sound happy. "It was an incredible finale, with the ball travelling the entire distance of the field in a matter of seconds. Joxxa is incredible. He did it for us yet again. Your leg, is a different matter though. I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone now you're awake and tell the guys you regained consciousness".

"Leave me please, everyone". Joseff waited until they had gone to examine his leg. There was blood everywhere and the bone was still protruding slightly under the skin over his shin bone.

"That assassin, damn it. "We'll meet again, my love." Damn right we will." he mumbled.

At the end of his sentence his apparently undamaged neck burnt like fire, as did his leg. He screamed in pain for what felt like minutes and as suddenly as it had started, it had disappeared, as did the pain in his now unharmed leg. "What is going on here?"

He felt his leg, it was clean and unscathed. He got off the pallet and looked into a mirror to look at his neck. He looked a lot smaller but "Not a mark. Not even the scar on my forehead (which he had received 4 years previously). How the hell do I even look younger?"

"What by the hells is going on?", observed the returned Charon. "You were in a mess mere minutes ago".

"I don't know but please keep your tongue on this, even from the others. Dismiss the healers and swear them to secrecy. I've got some researching to do".

"OK Joe. I will"”