“After the match, the Sacrifices are in a jubilant mood, wine flowing as freely as the blood of the freebooter skink now dripping from the ceremonial altar...
'Hang on,' pipes up one of the surviving skinks, 'where's old Blacndeca?'
'Yuuur,' rumbles Imp'hotent 'him kick good today, make win for us'
Suddenly the door swings open, and a battered saurus limps in, supported by the team apothecary. The doc' turns to coach Unstoffe and shrugs.
'The old wound boss - it just got worse - be lucky if he plays two games out of three now'
Unstoffe looks at the rest of the team, slowly shaking his head. As one, they close in on their injured comrade, Imp'hotent holding the sacrificial blade...
But then there is a blur of motion, and a confused melee develops, from which cries of pain and yells of beserk rage can be heard. Finally the dust settles to reveal Blacndeca hopping on one leg, surrounded by unconscious lizards. Spittle flying from his slavering jaws, he roars out,
'If I's gonna die, it'll be on the pitch!'
Looks like the old saurus might play a few games yet...”