“While the city of Pox remained as disgusting as ever, the Roses soon discovered that their home team were even worse. As they arrived for the match, Japh, nauseated by the disgusting array of stenches that assailed him at every turn, made a snap decision to hire two rough characters he found lounging in what passed for a bar in this foetid hellhole. Spurning the wheedling pleas of some scrawny cleric who stuttered forth assurances that he would blast their foes clean off the pitch (as if anything here would ever be clean), he instead doled out their appearance fees to a mean-looking Orc with a Chainsaw strapped to his forearm (he claimed this was a "cunnin' ruse" to avoid the rule about players not carrying weapons) and his Goblin companion, who, frankly, seemed to have had a few too many mushrooms. Or been dropped on his head too many times. Probably both.

As the game started, and the Goblin immediately began to wail that he could see their opponent's stench ("'s all purple, filffy purple. 's comin' for me"), Japh began to suspect he had made a mistake. Moments later, the crazed greenskin was smashed clean into the stands by a charging Luther Jones, still gibbering. Shortly after, both Pinkeyes and Rabbh were also felled, and the unwashed denizens of Pox swept through the Roses' disoriented defence for the score.

Ugroth now took to the field, but was immediately spotted by the referee as he unsuccessfully attempted to rev up his weapon, its bindings around his arm having partially rotted away already, thanks to the foul air that hung thick over the ramshackle stadium.

Lining up for the second half, Japh ordered Erkitt to take the ball, as he was the only player seemingly unaffected by the Night Terrors' disgusting range of diseases, and would hopefully be able to slip through for an equalizer. However, as the team advanced, the revolting sights and smells ahead of them began to take their toll on the remaining members of the squad. Rrhraaughuarr spent most of the half vomiting uncontrollably at the side of the pitch, and with 4 stomachs, that was no small task. Several rows of the crowd left covered in his last meal, half-digested and combined with foul stomach acids, though if anything, that improved their aroma.

Erkitt, still untroubled by all he saw, made a break through the lines and almost reached the opposing endzone, but with no support from his teammates, he too was crushed. Some twisted goat-headed abomination then seized up the ball, whisking it away from the side of the pitch where the Roses reeled and gagged, allowing the Pockarans to seal the victory.

Japh knew they had to leave soon. He had heard there was a caravan headed to the Shadowspires, and rumours of some competition, with a great prize up for grabs. He knew this was their opportunity, both to get out of Pox and also to lift the team's morale by snagging what would surely be a most valuable prize. And after all, he thought, if we don't win, I'm sure we can find some other way to acquire whatever it is...”