“Hakk'on surveyed his team. They were in the fringe leauge now, one step closer to the big money. Which is exactly what they needed as Hakk'on had bribed every offical, opposing player an anyone else nearby (including the Halfling-Dog guy) and still the match had been a draw. Although he would pay a little extra for the orc that 'tripped' on the Touchdown line in the very last turn with nary an opponent in sight. Still, Hakk'on knew he had to get his hands on either some skilled players or copoius amounts of gold. Sometimes he figured it would be easier to rob The Witch King himself than turn a profit in the fringe leagues..

Hakk'on heard a strange gurgling sound behind him and turned to see Ensign Redshirt being stretchered past holding something that looked oddly like his liver in one hand. Although near-mortally wounded, he was grinning stupidly as if he just heard his father had been assissinated (for druchii this is a happy day). Redshirt was a weird one, he was for lack of a better word, suicidal. And he liked it. But no matter his injuries he would alway be right back in the scrim next game, Although Hakk'on had noticed that after particularly severe wounds he would come back slightly different...

Hakk'on shrugged if off and went back to watching Boris' third re-enactment of his touchdown and Banilow shrieking "Oh my goodness, I think I may have killed an orc. I was only trying to slap some sense into the silly billy." However Hakk'on later noticed Banilow try to hide behind the jockstrap bin when an orc walked past sporting little more that a elfsized handprint on his face.

Still, Hakk'on had his share of the sizeable gate takings by his side, but only until a goblin surgeon snatched it all from his hands for Redshirt's surgical 'body-ectomy'”