“Chapter 3

"Right," said Coach Robsson, taking a deep breath to calm the rage boiling up inside him. "Let's start with the positives."
There was an awkward silence from the rest of the room.
"Okay," he continued. "Moving on to the negatives then."
The silence became even more awkward. And went on for a lot longer.
"Well," he said. "I've made a few notes." He held up the scroll he was holding and let if unroll. It didn't quite go as far as the ground, but only because he was standing on his coach's chair at the time. This was a bucket with the letter 'C' scrawled on the side. He used it to stand on when he was delivering his team talks, so he could make himself taller than the rest of the team. When it wasn't being used as his coach's chair, it was a slops bucket.
"First off, who's stupid idea was it to play a game of Bloodbowl in a blizzard?"
Ivan the Terribly, who thought he might know the answer to this one, put up his hand, but fortunately for him Kornelius dragged it back down again before Coach Robsson looked up from his parchment.
"Playing in the mud was bad enough, but this was something else altogether. Half the time I couldn't even see what was going on, although given what I got to see in the other half, that was probably no bad thing. And skaven! Who's bright idea was that? If you're going to play in a blizzard - and yes, I know it does happen from time to time - then at least find an opponent who's also going to struggle. Not rats, for goodness sake! Ebeneezer, what were you thinking?"
Ebeneezer shifted uncomfortably on his seat, partly out of awkward guilt, but also because his seat was actually a pile of dirty uniforms which were clearly full of fleas. And mice. And possibly a cat. "Well the thing is," he explained. "It was Skabbadabbadu's idea really. I couldn't find us an opponent and he said he could probably arrange something with some guys he knew from back when he was just a rat. Apparently a few of the local skaven teams used to get together for practice and he said he still had some contacts who might be able to get a team together at short notice. So I told him to go ahead and set it up, thinking that a bunch of part-timers would be a nice easy match for us."
"But they weren't part-timers, were they?"
"Er, no. It seems the whole thing was a set-up. Apparently when Skabbadabbadu came over to us, not only did he turn his back on his old team, he also turned his back on a substantial number of debts. And also the captain's sister who was, how shall we say, in the family way at the time. They couldn't do anything directly, because they're not in our league, so they hired a bunch of assassins to kit up and take the field against us, just for the chance to pay Skabbadabbadu back."
"Well they certainly did that, didn't they? Now I've lost my star werewolf."
Celandril looked at the coach and growled.
"I meant what I said," Robsson snapped. "You want to prove me wrong, then prove me wrong by actually doing something on the pitch for once. And by doing something on the pitch, I don't mean crouching there in the endzone and depositing a turd into a little hole you've just dug. Yes, I saw you, even through the blizzard."
Celandril looked sheepish. Robsson considered making a joke about a werewolf looking sheepish, but now really wasn't the time. But it was a good one, all the same. He'd definitely save it for later.
"So, it was a set-up, and we were really playing against a bunch of assassins." Robsson paused for effect. "A bunch of assassins who managed to play the game better than you lot. They were quicker, tougher, bashier, agiler, scorier, and they weren't even trying!"
"But to be fair," Kornelius offered by way of defence. "We were a man down for most of the match."
"Two men down," Ivan added. "Don't forget Normaaan."
"Who?" Robsson had forgotten him already.
"You know, the stupid one."
Robsson looked around the room. "Can you be a bit more specific?"
"One eye. Gammy foot. Always falling over. Got decapitated just before the half."
"Him? He was on our team? I thought that was one of the assistant referees."
"No, he was one of us."
"Well he was clearly no great loss."
Most of the team nodded in agreement.
"Well, I suppose we ought to have a minute's silence for fallen comrades, eh?"
Most of the team nodded in agreement.
"Ha! Just kidding. What a waste of time that would be. Come on, there's work to do. Sanjfrntyg, you and Igor go check the corpses in case there's anything you need. Body parts, armour, whatever looks useful. And don't forget to check their pockets as well. Ebeneezer, you're on roster duty. We'll need a couple of replacements for our next match. Nothing fancy, mind, just place holders. We can look to get some better players once the ones we already have start showing that they're worth the investment. So for the moment, just bank the winnings."
"Erm..." Ebeneezer looked shifty.
"Erm, what?"
"About the winnings."
'What about them?"
"Well, it seems our opponents weren't just assassins, they were also thieves."
"Meaning what?"
Ebeneezer sagged. "They cut a hole in the bottom of the loot bag. By the time I realised, half the gold was already gone."
"So you're saying we don't have enough gold to buy another werewolf?"
"Werewolf? We don't have enough to buy a zombie. Right now, we're only one step up the ladder from bankruptcy."
"Great," Robsson muttered. "Any more bad news?"
"Ooh, ooh," Ivan the Terribly shouted, waving his hand in the air like a schoolboy who either knows the answer to the teacher's question, or who desperately needs to go to the toilet. Robsson looked at him warily.
"Go on."
"I think the blizzard's coming back."
”