“Yes, the slender elfs from the Citadel enjoyed a charmed first half - oh, we dodge, we pick up the ball - and the warped stunties seemed unable to lay a finger on supple elf-flesh. Truth be told, there was a good deal of improbable elfy business. The nasty smelly brutes might get a draw, if they worked hard, we thought as we entered the second half.

Well, after being repeatedly brutalised by the short furious ones for a while, it was clear that a) we would win the war but lose the battle (with the cattle), b) we would be regrouping back at the Citadel for the prescribed period of mourning, and c) there would be some stern rebukes from the Master of Apothecaries back on Ulthuan. How utterly prophetic we are.



”