"Welcome again to another Blood Bowl rumble! I'm Snot Sniffly, skink of the year, and with me always is Gorgaz Toothfang, ex-black orc and even exxer-thinker. This time it's the Grogbooze Beer Company, your everyday beer-swilling, stinky little dwarves... facing the necromantic team of the Laboratory Experiments."

The team name is "Experimentos de Laboratorio", you trollbrain."

"Right. That's what I said. Anyway..."

(The orc just rolls his eyes.)

"The Dwarves win the toss and will receive from the walking dead to start things off, hoping the claws of the werewolves don't turn out to be sharper than the claws from Captain Chokechain's Crew earlier."

"I hear some fans are still out for what's left of their undamaged body parts."

"The kick is VERY short, and while the dwarves watch the ball in the air the necromanticals set up in a perfect defense to give the dwarves a bit of trouble on their drive. Surprisingly, a blocker dwarf on the line of scrimmage CATCHES the ball, and stares down the multiple hungry dead all in his face."

"The dwarves seem undaunted. Either they're stupid, or they're fearless."

"Fearless is my guess. Look at those hits!"

(Several dwarves roll one-die blocks and roll -very- well, but don't follow, a mistake that costs them later.)

"The zombies get right back up and step back into formation, blocking the advance of the dwarves, then the wolves swing around and begin to claw at the defenses. A trollslayer is knocked to the side, forcing the dwarves to run the other way in hopes they can get away from their teeth and fangs. Fat chance, dwarves are slower than the thought process of trolls!"

"The dwarves push back, then back off to hand off the ball. It looks like they drank too much, surprise surprise, as the ball is dropped and the wolves scramble to get into position on one side of the pitch... only AFTER they kick the ass of Foe Hammer Frankie, one of the trollslayers."

"Some troll slayer, letting his ass get kicked by a werewolf. How can he slay trolls if he's dead?"

"Fearless, Norman Grogbooze rushes to get the ball, and picks it up. Now if he would only learn to dodge..."

"And as we all know..."

(together, they say "Dwarves Don't Dodge!")

"One of the Wights takes exception to Grunk Grogbooze's beard. Maybe it's because wights can't grow beards. I don't know. In either case, sayonara Grunk, say hi to the infirmary ladies on the way down to the locker room!"

"The Wights assault the dwarves next to the ball and crowd around it, preventing pickup as we hit the halfway point of the first half... and a wolf runs off with the ball after diving between the legs of a drunk dwarf! He's out of range to be caught and the necromanticals are up, 1-0."

"The dwarves are down one of the Grogbooze runners as they set up for the second half of the first half..."

"And you have me saying necromanticals now. I pick up the most terrible habits from you..."

(Snot sticks his tongue out at his partner.)

"The second kick of the game is unremarkable as a gust of wind makes the ball bounce a bit, and the dwarves are on the (short legged) move. Norman has the ball, but it will be luck that makes him get to the end zone. The wolves back up in preparation for another furry assault as the zombies shamble to their assigned positions to make things hard on the metal-sniffing, beer-poking..."

(A werewolf frenzies a one die block into a busted leg for a MNG.)

"Uh, did you see what that wolf did to that trollslayer?! He bit off his leg and ran off with it!!"

"They'll regrow it in the locker room, or attach some kind of metal stump, like my leg, only worse. Like I was saying. No-talent short, round, fat blobs."

"Yeah, ok. Anyway. The dwarves try for a desperation play but since dwarves don't dodge, period, the wolves aren't buying it and one of them brings down Norman briefly while the rest of the dead go to work on the living. The half ends with Norman in the backfield but not enough time to score; they take a much needed beer break before the start of the second half."

"If that's beer, then I'm an orc. Wait a minute..."

("Let's All Go To The Lobby" plays on the Gigant-O-Tron and people throw skulls, tomatoes, and the occasional halfling at the screen.)

"Nine on eleven for round two of this dwarf-fest. The dwarves aren't having much fun."

"And not because I pissed in their beer."

"Wait, what?"

"Hey, I have a wager going! I have to keep an edge!"

"I'll edge you, you rotten little... anyway, the dwarves set up as best they can for the second half putting only three dwarves on the front line to try to avoid any future pain as much as possible. With everyone in the back to try and hold off the onslaught of the walking dead, Norman winds up for the kick. The kick is deep to make the wights chase it, but it goes short and to the left... RIGHT NEXT to one of the wolves, who is being fed milkbones and dogfood from the crowd."

"Beats dwarf meat, that stuff is stringy and tastes like stale beer."

"The dead surround the dwarves, preparing to lay the pain down and make them -wish- they were dead, then the wolves grab the-- what's this, the wights get the ball instead. I was expecting the wolves to pick it up, because they can hit back with their claws."

"I hope the wolves don't run away with the wights' legbones instead..."

"The dwarves falter as ANOTHER dwarf tries to dodge. To their benefit it was a blitzer who was actually suited for dodging, and not one of the regular drunkbeards. Another dwarf is knocked out and it's clear sailing all the way to the endzone. For the second time in a row, we have a all-half-long stall... on the SECOND TURN OF THE HALF! Another dwarf tries to get close to the ball but falls over trying to go for it, and we're left here, sitting on our asses..."

"... in a nice, protected, air-conditioned room..."

"... while the dwarves fall over left and right and I don't think half of them are even drunk anym--"

(the wights drop the ball on a handoff. Snot holds on to his headset.)

"LOOSE BALL! LOOSE BALL! Norman sees the opening and ducks in, but fails to pick up the ball as the wights regain their feet. The wolves are a little groggy but not out of the woods yet... probably because they're not done pissing on the trees... and they immediately position themselves to make themselves trouble for the dwarves. A blitzer and Norman stare down the wights, but the zombies nearby are SMASHING dwarves left and right to stop any reinforcements arriving."

"Norman grabs the ball and begins his attempted run all the way from endzone to endzone while the wights are busy with the other dwarves, but the wolves are free and a flesh golem is within range. There is no way he's making it to the end zone, and sure enough the ball (and Norman) get frenzied into the crowd. The ball is thrown RIGHT INTO THE OTHER WOLF'S MOUTH, but a dwarf blitzer calling himself The Boulder blitzes aside the wights after a failed move by the wolf to do anything important with it. The Boulder grabs the ball and makes a move, but he's not gonna make it, there isn't enough time left in the game to make a score even if he DOES go all the way and stay on his feet."

"Instead he doubles back toward his own goal to foul the hell out of a downed wolf, but nothing happens as the dead finish their push. They don't manage another score, but either way they win 1-0. The dwarves go home empty handed, and not because someone poked holes in their kegs in the locker room."

(Snot whistles innocently as he gets up to leave.)

"Time for me to go collect my wager. This is Snot Sniffly, for the Craptastic Bash N' Break Corp'ration..."

(The orc cracks his knuckles.)

"You WILL share some of that with me, right?"

(The skink looks nervous, then makes a run for it.)

"COME BACK HERE YOU GREEDY LITTLE..."

(The orc knocks over his chair on the way out the door, where the skink is running for his life.)

-((six times, two die block, doubleskull, skull-and-something else. All six of my rerolls. What the fuck, Nuffle? Give my dwarves a chance!))-