“Marks took a deep breeze... the game was over... he had survived.... slowly he made his way through the bad smelling forces of zombies who hadnt left the pitch to the bloody rests of his brother scorpionblood... the zombie who killed him, had ripped of his arm... was everything left from him....
lugubrious he thought about the old times at gate yvversee, where they where playing agains other elves... the long passes... the art.... scorpionblood pretended always to be thoughest of all these guys... he remembered the words of his father what he told them: "don't work for the forces in this bloody endless war against the orcs... make something with your life and become a bloodbowlplayer"... the time before they became pros... .. Marks eyes where wandering the field...
there was he ...scorpionblood ...still alive... just one arm left.. his eyes gazing
not more then a marionette of snakeyes...
this game was won.. more then hard... not really fair... but one thing was clear... after the elfs realized what happend here... it would end.. now ...here... marks and the others would join the ulthulan forces and life a peacefull life in war...
no more zombies... never again”