“Jorin walked into an unnamed inn near a plague infested swamp in the early hours of the morning. A thick fog seemed to rise from the bog and there was a good chance that the region would be overcast for several days. The tavern was all but empty with only one drunk passed out with his head down on the table. The tavern owner and his wife the barmaid were the only other people in the building.

The vampire shook his head. He had not had an enjoyable meal in days. The job was not turning out as he had imagined. Stalking high elves should not have left him drinking ghoul and orc blood for the last two weeks and now he sat in an empty tavern in a swamp. Discouraged he spoke to the owner of the inn who coughed and wheezed throughout the conversation. Clearly he was gripped by some illness.

“I’m feeling charitable.” He told the man. “Let me pick up the drunk’s bill and I will go put him in his bed for a good night’s rest.”

The gaunt sickly man wiped his running nose happy to take the coins. “That will be six gold and a copper.”

Jorin put the money on the bar and then moved to the drunk who was now snoring on the table. It would have been simple to carry the man to the back but a show of strength could arouse suspicion. Instead he helped the scruffy man to his feet and started to walk back to the rooms. He could smell sickness on the man’s breath. Tuberculosis was his best guess. Under any other circumstances this man would not be his choice for diner but times were tough.

As he opened the bedroom door he heard the chimes ring on the front door and the entrance of the Archers of Avelon. The bedroom he chose was adjacent to the tavern and the walls were thin so he could easily eaves drop on the conversation of the elven team. He deposited his prey on the bed and then pulled a chair close to the wall.

Peering through cracks in the bedroom wall he could see Archers as they sat on chairs and stools around the largest table in the room.

Meldalf Aedfaere was the first to speak. “It is a shame what happened to Longstride and Idrenfineth. I never expected star like Longstride to be killed by a Beast of Nurgle. Why would he get to close? Kitty is no pussy cat.”

“Better that than end up like Idhrenfineth.” Responded Aelrue. “I mean, what elf wants to end up as a rotter? To die on the pitch is one thing but to be recruited to Nurgle and slowly decay. That is just ghastly.”

Aelrue’s sister Adresin started thinking out loud. “What if the Archer Kill-Team were to finish the job? What if ATK were to put an arrow in her eye and give her some dignity?”

But Revwe laid down the law. “No. Those are the risks of blood bowl. None of you are to go near her unless there is a contract. At least for now, she is part of Kitty and the Girls. However, tonight let’s raise our glasses to Idhrenfineth Gaendas. With 26 confirmed casualties she has inflicted more pain on our opponents than any of us to date.”

The elves raised their glasses and Jorin turned his attention to the bar where Kondor and Corbis chatted. Both were in uncommonly good moods.

“Coach Kojo sure came through.” Said the gnome Corbis.

Kondor beamed. “Yep. And it is about time. It has been five games since anyone has laid much of a hand on these elves. Sure the Reapers killed an elf that day but a line elf does not compare to this. Kitty and the Girls did a magnificent job infecting Idhrenfineth. I will have to see if Coach Kojo fancies a rematch.”

Jorin listened to the conversations for a few more before boredom overcame him and he turned his attention to the drunk in his bunk. The blood would make him strong enough to go out and hunt that new rotter. It seemed that no one else knew that there was indeed a price on her head.

”