“Further north we wander, when a band of slavers comes our way! We challenge them to bloodbowl before they can challenge us, and they agree, little suspecting our well-honed teamwork and excellent depth on the bench.

We took the kick, barged up our right, but met a wall of heavy armour, skilled guarding, and Dwarf blocking skills with evil claws to cut through armour (ha! we don't even wear armour!). We held them, barely, but many of ours were falling and it was all I could do to scream at Agron to dodge away and flee to the left, hope for the best. Their monstrous Centaur took clean across the whole field to cut him off in no time, sprinting like the wind. We helped him on into the crowd for his trouble, but by then the wall of armour was back and it was all we could do to stop them gaining possession with numbers to their advantage. Traitorous, weak, hobgoblins aiding them well, as brothers against brothers, so we smashed them, take that Jaropolk.

Their receive, and things seemed grim, Lydon shouted "freedom or death", so they killed him right on the spot! But we still had ten and that's often enough. Their Centaur, Svjatoslav, delayed in the rear with the ball, out of our reach, hoping for the Dwarves to wear us down no doubt, but the frenzied attacks of Pollux got us through, pouring down the pitch, and I called for the gnomes to pull their trap! Svjatoslav stumbled, dropping the ball into the end zone, and as we bore down on him, Dwarves nipping at our heels, traitors pulling at our shirts, he fluffed the pick up. Into the crowd with him again, I screamed, and so it was! Spartacus in the lead, pushed off a pursuing brother, and calmly scored.

Them again, us able to field another eleven in defence, little time left for anyone but the Centaur to run one in, so we left him alone on the lead, dwarves all around, and a frenzied blitz again got us all close to the ball behind. They handed it off to a big Dwarf for a moment, and we swamped them, eight brave hobgoblins taking control and seeing out the game. Agron throwing the ball about in celebration at the death. Victory, and more importantly freedom is ours! Lydon, you will be remembered, and replaced with a random fan.”