“Due to an earlier match-up with a very angry human team, Vigor In The Pipes had 3 players MNG-- a saurus, a skink, and our mighty kroxigor.

During pre-game practice, Xeves, skink journeyman was sent to the Pit of Endless Screaming, to wrestle with Lucy, a beast of Nurgle– this being a warm-up which was often employed by the kroxigor which Xeves was intended to "replace". The results were disappointing. A few minutes later, as the lizard's custodial staff scrubbed Xeves off the bottom of the pit, it was decided that these reckless freeloaders had no place on the team, and that the only 'journeys' that these journeymen would be taking was one to the Sacrificial Altar of the Mirror Pool. The team came to a uniform consensus that no replacements would be employed this game.

This, of course, left Vigor In The Pipes with a scant 8 players. Their plan was to commit the unused payroll money to hire the mighty Slibli, but as the contract was being drawn up, Team Captain Lathering Luxury was brought to the window by the aroma of roasting Gutter-Runner. LL immediately accosted the halfling who was responsible for the odor, and inquired–– did he cook professionally? Was he, in fact, what is known the northern parts as a 'sheff' ? Indeed he was, the halfling replied, a MASTUR SHEFF. In return for the postponement his being gored, the halfling agreed to cater the Vigor's next match.

AND CATER HE DID.

The Guidance Counselling Inc we so smitten by the delicious aromas of roasting lesser-races, that they couldn't get their act together for the whole match. It didn't much matter how many players the Vigor In The Pipes had on the field, because it was all just too much the elves to handle.

In the second half, even the lizards got a bit distracted, with Ironic Corrosion having his groin... errr.. "strained" by a dark-elf temp, and Snake of Doom failing 6 times to understand the subtle intricacies of holding the ball. Nonetheless, the Lizards carried the day, and cleared enough Elves from the field that the survivors were even allowed to attend the celebratory feast.

Lastly, Ironic Corrosion, who was chastised by his mother for his butter-fingers, took a few night-classes in ball-handling, and is pleased to announce that he has the surest hands on the team. Among other highlights of the match, Vantuce (#8) inadvertently discovered that the northern races are disinclined in being struck in the tender area betwixt their ambulatory appendages. Having now done some follow-up reading on mammalian anatomy, he is now considered to be the randiest, sneakiest git this side of Lustria.

Cheers to Coach fidius, to a fun and crazy match.


”