“Bully? Speak to me. Ah, you're awake. Good: if you ever try to dive over the line to score again, it's in the pot with you. No, you didn't trip, I saw it, it was deliberate. Don't be ridiculous there was no snotlings anywhere near you, at least I don't think so, they blend into the pitch so well.

Yes, I know one of the green ones broke his skull on your head earlier, that doesn't mean they're out to get you. Well you're a big target. You're welcome.


As to the game, these Elves were something different, knocking us over like a bunch of Norsemen, except they then ran away and scored each time. I'd teach the boys to tackle, but none of them has any natural aptitude, and the lack of success (and things to go in the pot) makes them all a bit down in the mouth.

Bully seems to be able to make it to the line with the ball reliably enough, I think it's time to get serious with the rest of them having a nice tidy cage waiting for him when he gets there. I'll run them all harder at training in light of that and see if it can't fix their general malaise.


And can I just say: Goon, Muscle, Bruiser? Four blocks in match each is simply not enough. I don't care if you're confused about my signals, just hit things! We can't possibly win if they've a full compliment on field every drive. Brutality's the name, like young Brute there. Perhaps fractured skulls would help the rest of you? Oh, now you want to train? Good.”