The sideline commentator and his cabalvison crew intercept the legend as he makes his way off the pitch, blocking his path with cameras, microphones and a mountain of enthusiasm...

“Good afternoon Sportsfans, we’re here post game with Rok Hedsmasha of the Sons of Brutus. Rok, you’ve just played your 185th game for the Sons, scoring your thirteenth career touchdown and netting another two kills and fracturing the skull of a third opponent to bring your total career casualty count to an extraordinary one hundred and ninety two! You must be extremely proud of your record!?” The question hung in the air like the moment between throwing a block and having it connect.

“Not at all.” The answer was a fend, creating a small awkward gap. The question had missed it's mark.

“Haha, that famously dry Hedsmasha sense of humor.” The media is a juggernaut. “You’re the first human in the box to crack 500 star player points, and can now be considered the greatest all time human box player. It’s okay to admit it, we’re all friends here, you’ve got to be proud of such a record!”

“No I don’t.” Less skilled defenders might have stumbled.

“But you can’t deny your achievements. You’ve won a Human League Premiership, brought home a Blackbox Brawl Title, and have killed two legendary clawpombers on the pitch in front of thousands. You’re a tower of Strength and Honor, fearlessly defending humanity from the chaos hordes overwhelming the box!” The interviewer was working himself into a frenzy. “How do you feel about that?!”

“Nothing.” Standing firm.

“Nothing?!” He’d gone for it and failed. Turnover.

“Look, in my book Max Schmerz is still the greatest. That guy won games. Timmy deserves more respect than me, along with Collector, Shooter, even Boris despite his brain problems did more to win than I ever have.” Pow, the line of questioning was down but not out.

“Er, now we’re h...” an attempted save.

“I’m not finished.” Rok had more to pile on. “For the majority of my career I’ve hugged the dirt at every opportunity. Heck I even invested in dwarven forged armour 100 games ago since I knew I was going to get kicked while down more often than I get hit while standing. Thank Sigmar that those chaos morons haven’t figured out how to grow claws on their feet yet.

No, don’t interrupt, I won’t warn you again.” Rok was to deliver another blitz. “I’ve hid behind screens of rookies and journeymen, using their bodies and lives to protect mine. I’ve even been told to run to hide when the coach has decided the game is lost. How much Strength and Honor is left after that?

And my role on the team? I’m the killer. I killed two fellow humans out there on the pitch today. If I’m not making stuff bleed and scream in pain I’m letting the team down. Thats the same job as those clawpombers you mentioned. Am I really any better than them?

No don’t answer that, it was rhetorical you fool.” This interview had been broken at the neck “Look I know you just want a story about a great human player, something to make the box look more virtuous than it really is. How about we call this quits and you go talk to the Ogre over there. Gitya was confirmed as a superstar after just 23 games, he’s the fearless tower of strength you’re looking for.”

The legend turns and enters the tunnel to the changing rooms, in a moment he’d fade into the darkness the way all legends do...