The staff of SCRIBBL slowly entered the dark crypt that housed the PREDICTATRON, the words of editor Grot ringing in their ears – get the scoop to end all scoops, the one that finally brings Troll's Trousers down – the winners of CIBBL for the next 500 years! Bilfrindal battered buttons wildly.

'I AM NOT SURE THIS WILL HAVE THE EFFECT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR, MORTAL', said the PREDICTATRON.

“Sorry, PREDICTATRON, but necessity is the mother of invention. What possibly can go wrong with meddling in the future?”

“WELL, YOU SEEM CONFIDENT, I ENJOY YOUR PUBLICATION AND I'M PRETTY BORED IN MY DAY JOB. I HAVEN'T EVEN RELEASED THE BIBBL RESULTS YET. PREPARE TO SEE THE FUTURE!”

kerrunch

Edmund Highnose rubbed his eyes open. All before him was colour, and lights, a dazzling array of purples, pinks and blues; all except for 26 paces worth of astrogranite, laid out before them, and around, floating in stasis, the bodies of the great CIBBL players that the journalists knew so well. They looked calm in their eternal rest, but still extremely violent.

That, and a massive Greater Daemon of Tzeentech.

“Hello?”, offered Edmund timidly

“Hello mortals. I have fortold this. You are the journalists from SCRIBBL. I am the Lord of Change, and welcome to my stadium – welcome to the CIBBL Dreamscape. You have your wish - you are seeing the future. You are in the future!

It is the year 3103. I have taken a liking to your CIBBL, and its bloodbowling ways. But alas, it is now, in 3103, not as good as it used to be. Players have gone soft, and video-assisted referees have added additional delays. The play-acting is horrendous. Plus, those bloody stormcast eternals have made basically all the other positionals redundant.

Thus I have resurrected the corpses of those stars from back in 2603, and have placed them into 9 teams. Yes, 16 men squads, 2 from each of side: not just stars, but linemen too. Look there – Nisadei! And there – After The Lotus Flower Had Opened! And there – a small drop bear called Flower! They can die but we simply resurrect them after each game. But until now, I had no coaches. It was just me playing with myself. Now, I will task each of you with a team, and you shall play, and the winner will have his freedom! Probably!”.

“Err, and what are the rules of this tournament? Is it like regionals? Styles Clash? Mushroom Scramble?”

“There are no rules in the Dreamscape, fools! Now play on!