|Steyn was sobbing into his hands, football in his lap. Frank did all he could to reassure him. "This was not dream!" drawled out between sobs. Frank surveyed the certifiable nightmare. The newspaper ad to make a new Blood Bowl team for SWL certainly left a lot to be desired. Frank felt fairly certain opposing team coaches had deliberately dumped zombies at their door as some kind of 'Welcome Gift'. But Frank and Steyn chose the best 5 zombies, who could at least speak. Kind of. Frank is pretty sure he didn't fool Steyn into believing they got 5 Zombies who could say more then 'Brain', and coming up with variants of 'Brian' on the spot made his efforts all the more transparent.|
The door shuddered violently and the sound of bashing hollow tin detracted from the sullen ambiance of wondering, clueless zombies, and a sulking golem. Frank opened the door and stepped out to find two wights brawling with each other while trying to shout over each other. Grabbing their exposed spinal column, Frank lifts them and scowled the importance of silence and obedience into them. "Hi... I am Jack, and this is Barry. We h-ave come to j-oin the new te-am as ad-ver-tised" Frank wasn't sure which was more irritating: His failed morning, his crying brother, the wondering zombies, or twin wights assuming each others sentences on the fly while pressing his own newspaper article against his face.
Steyn stopped crying as two scrawny, metal clad figures were flung into the room and lay sprawled awkwardly against the wall. They each quickly stood tall and defiantly. "They can take a hit" Frank said curiously walking back into his home, seeing some glimmer of promise in these two. Frank hesitated as he heard "But the ball! THE BALL!" Steyn wailed as he venomously punts the ball with superhuman strength. Frank barely had time to lean out of the way as the ball sailed passed him and out the door, to watch it get caught one handed by a hairless, gangly, nappy clad ghoul. "Raz play gud" the ghoul says with confidence and attitude. Frank smirks and nods at him and looks to Steyn, who himself is smiling for the first time that day.
"We may have a team" Frank says with an air of hope to his brother. "No, eleven" is the curt response. Frank sighs in exasperation that this has definitely become a ludicrous notion and an impossibility to either happen or as something for his brother to enjoy. As Frank contemplates a response they hear the ghoul cry out as he is balled over, the zombies are themselves skittled as a furry mass blurs into the room. The wights brace themselves only to find themselves awkwardly sprawled once more. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, and Steyn looks down to find a werewolf rubbing his swelling head while looking at the thing stopped him. "Eleven".
Frank raises his hands "Now Steyn, I'm not sure a stray werewolf ought to be considered here and n-" "ELEVEN!!" Steyn yelled, cutting off his brother, staring at what he hopes will also be his new puppy.
The werewolf stares back, glances at Frank, looks back to Steyn, cocks his leg, and relieves himself on Steyn. The sound of dripping and puddling seems unusually loud. The werewolf shakes himself, walks to where Steyn was sitting, circles and plops himself down. "Eleven it is!" says Frank. Steyn starts sobbing all over again...