“Westward we headed, away from the necromancer's horde. Elves stood in our path, professionals, blood bowl players pure. What would come of our meeting but bloodbowl, little did they suspect it was all we wanted from them!

Our ball, always lucky, they put it all on the line and we killed on offence, Butcher seeing his last and the apothecary agreeing, Taylor knocked out for the day. We caged up, sent some runners forward, split the defence as they pressed in. Segovax crashed down and the pressure increased, but Nasir out north tripped his cover, Theokoles was freed by Oenamus wrestling one down, and the pass was good, score, Nasir going for it! Just like that. Who's the professionals now!

They punched our defence, too far back, filled the centre, ran it north, screening out, many to cover for the passing game, but it was all dodges and in for their swift catcher Plumber. Hard to stop, that. We secured the ball to the half time, their quick pressure not enough.

This half the defence came closer in the growing heat, forcing them to set for a cage, but the kick was deep and as Agron stretched to cover a pit trap was revealed, the ball free like us! Out of position, they swiftly got back in cover, but a journeyman fell, unprofessionally, and Donar dodged back to strip it free once more! Elves being elves, only another stumble from a journeyman saw us with a chance to cover them again. We poured forward, but they showed nerves of steel to pass and catch among us and break free, leaving us badly out of position!

Donar got back, stunning their catcher with his sprint. Suddenly our numbers were telling, Theokoles sure handed and dodgy both, but smashed off by a lone journeyman, who promptly stumbled in the heat. Barca couldn't go for the handoff, their scorer Cobbler couldn't pick up, things were tight, NO TIME LADS, CHUCK IT! They did, Agron holding the catch. Castus took one in the face rather than wrestle, and we were in!

No time indeed, just four of them left from the heat, but the kick was misplaced and their fans rioted with the ball, more time given, a chance surely! More stumbling journeymen, Donar stripped them once more, but Elven grace and nerves of steel in play once more and ...

INTERCEPT! Varro! A hero, a win for the free hobs. Imagine if instead there had only been those clumsy oafs of journeymen on the line at the start, how badly we'd have been beaten. Linemen for the line is our motto. Linemen for the blitz, for the pass, for the score, for the intercept. Varro! Westward we continue.”